Back in their Day
by Jenny-Cat-Miaow
Summary: Harry travels back to the year 1977, where he teaches DADA at Hogwarts - to his parents. Will he change everything for good? Or will he create the future as he knows it through his actions? Read to find out! From BlackToWhite
1. Arrival of the Stranger

**So, I have been allowed to honour of continuing BlackToWhite's story 'Back in their Day'. Hopefully I will not muck it up.**

**Anyway, you know the drill. Harry Potter doesn't belong to me, first 7 chapters belong to BlackToWhite (although I edited small parts, not enough to change the story line, just words, phrasing, etc, you get the gist) oh and the general story line won't be mine either. Think that's about it. Enjoy!**

Chapter 1 – Arrival of the Stranger

"To all the new faces – welcome to Hogwarts! To all the old ones, welcome back! A few things before the feast, after which you will probably be to full to listen to an old man talk." As Dumbledore said this, many people grinned – that was just typically Dumbledore, to insult himself in such a pleasant manner. "As always, I want to remind you that the Forbidden Forest is forbidden to enter – as the name should suggest, really." The piercing blue eyes of the Hogwarts Headmaster flashed over the crowd, resting on four seventh-year students a fraction of a second longer than the rest of the Great Hall, which itself was an entity looking up at him. One of this group was a rather short, but athletic-looking boy with messy black hair, hazel brown eyes and round glasses, whereas the other was tall and wiry, with shoulder-length black hair falling elegantly on both sides of his head and grey eyes which were twinkling in amusement, just like those of his friend. The third boy, a tall, rather peaky looking youth with sandy-brown hair lightly dabbed with grey, and kind amber eyes, was completely unfazed – in fact he seemed to have drifted off into a light sleep. The fourth of the group was a pudgy boy with a pale face, watery eyes and mousy-brown hair, who squirmed slightly under the Headmaster's gaze, even though there was nothing accusatory there, rather concern paired with amusement.

After waiting for a few seconds, Dumbledore continued his speech. As soon as the Headmaster's eyes left him, the boy with the black, messy hair shifted his gaze from the Headmaster to a very pretty redhead that was sitting a few feet away from him. She was quite tall, with a slender figure accompanied by a kind face and curves in exactly the right places. However, what ensnared him most of all were her eyes; they were almond-shaped and the piercing green of finely cut emeralds. He sighed dreamily and, with all his might, focused his attention onto the Headmaster, absent-mindedly fumbling with a small silver badge on his robes.

"…has been expanded to a number three-hundred twenty-five. All of those interested in what these objects are, feel free to check out the list that can be viewed on Mr. Filch's door." The elder man paused for a second and, for the first time since the beginning of his speech, looked his age. "I also have more serious matters to discuss- ("Cool! That's about me!" the boy with the elegant black hair cried out joyously, which caused his friends to groan and the boy with the sandy-brown hair to smack him on his head.) -but that can wait until after the feast. Tuck in!"

Most of the student population didn't need to be told twice when food was involved, and they dug in vigorously as plates appeared around the tables. Conversations ensued, mostly focusing either on their holidays or the mystery issue that Dumbledore wanted to address after the feast. When the last speck of dessert had vanished, Dumbledore stood up, looking suddenly very old again.

"Now, I regret to have to inform you that I have not been able to find a suitable Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher this year. I will continue my search of course, but-"

"No, you won't."

A quiet yet perfectly audible voice sounded from the entrance of the Great Hall. Everyone spun around, shifting their attention to the new arrival. Standing in the doorway was a tall, young man who appeared to be only slightly above Hogwarts age. He was wearing a long black travelling cloak that flapped around his ankles as a sudden breeze swept through the open door. His feet, unlike most wizards', were not clad in boots, but rather in plain black Muggle sneakers. His hood was pulled up, obscuring his facial features. However, everyone instantly sensed that this was a wizard of great power – he was radiating magic like heat. Instantly, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick and Slughorn had their wands trained upon him.

"Who are you?" The Headmaster asked, his voice even, though one familiar with Albus Dumbledore could hear that it shook ever so slightly - he was obviously contemplating the possibilities concerning the arrival of this mysterious stranger and, being in war times, had automatically jumped to the worst conclusion. If the stranger should attack, then there would be heavy casualties amongst the students, something that the elder wizard sought to avoid at all costs.

Although nobody could be sure, many people would, when asked about this incident later, proclaim that the man was smiling when he answered. "I have come to apply for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position, which, I believe, as you have just said so yourself, is still vacant." Several of the teachers and a great number of the students began muttering amongst themselves, but if Dumbledore was shocked, he masked it well.

"How can I be sure that you are not a supporter of Voldemort?" He had expected the mysterious man to flinch like most did, yet the stranger didn't even seem to notice that the name of the wizard most feared by all had just been uttered. The new arrival didn't answer. Instead, he simply pushed up the left sleeve of his cloak, to reveal a pale, muscled arm that was disfigured by many scars, gashes and cuts. Not many people knew what this was supposed to unveil – what could a scarred arm tell the Leader of the Light and Headmaster of Hogwarts about the loyalties of the man standing in the entrance? – but whatever it was, Dumbledore seemed to accept it, as he nodded.

"What are your qualifications? You seem, forgive me for putting it bluntly, to be too young to be a teacher." This time the arrival was most definitely smiling, for amusement was evident in every syllable of his answer.

"Well, I am eighteen, but I think we agree that not age, but qualification is relevant for this job, isn't it?" The man raised his voice ever so slightly during the second part of the sentence to make himself audible over the crowd, which had started to speak in hushed voices again at hearing his age.

"Indeed it is." Dumbledore answered, nodding. Upon noticing that his wand was still trained upon the arrival he lowered it, causing his colleagues to do the same. "Forgive me. So, what are your qualifications?"

"Do you want to see for yourself?"

"What do you mean?" The elder wizard asked, sounding a little confused for the first time.

"Let's duel."

In the matter of a split second, the hall went deathly quiet and all those who had turned away snapped their heads back to the new arrival, expecting him to be joking – clearly he couldn't hope for a victory against Dumbledore? However nothing of his appearance seemed to show that he was joking. His eyes (though none could see them) were boring into the Headmaster with such ferocity that everyone felt the old wizard look genuinely surprised, and slightly disconcerted. A fraction of a second later though, he quickly arranged his face in a nonchalant mask and smiled at the young man in the doorway. "Of course. Let's go into the Entrance Hall, shall we?" The man nodded once and Dumbledore stood up. After walking around the teacher's table, he crossed the hall in quick strides. This seemed to break the ice and the students started whispering again – this had to be a feast full of firsts, as nobody could remember Dumbledore having ever been interrupted at the Opening Feast before. Students and teachers alike stood and followed the man with the flowing beard out of the Great Hall into the larger Entrance Hall, where they spread around the room, leaving a space in the middle where the two duellers were circling each other steadily. One everyone had filed out of the Great Hall to watch the spectacle, the mysterious man waved his wand once and a silver cage expanded over him and Dumbledore.

"It absorbs all curses, so that no one gets hit by a stray spell." The stranger explained. Dumbledore nodded, looking thoroughly impressed and pulling his wand from his midnight-blue robes.

"What are the curse restrictions?" The Headmaster asked in a very professional manner, leaving no doubt that he had once been a professional duellist.

"No Unforgivables." Was the curt answer he received from the stranger. He waited for him to continue, but he didn't say anything more than that. Instead, he raised his wand like a sword and bowed to the Headmaster, who mirrored this gesture a split second later. As they both raised their heads again, Dumbledore attacked first, shooting a silent stunner at his opponent, who deflected it with a lazy flick of his wand, only to retaliate a split second later in equal silence. A jet of blinding white light that no one recognized shot towards Dumbledore, who erected his shield just in time, though he swayed ever so slightly. However, instead of using this momentary lapse of weakness to his advantage, the stranger merely brought his wand down, without a visible curse being shot at Dumbledore. Seemingly nothing happened. Only a loud crack overhead told the spectators as well as his opponent what he had done – one of the torches on the wall had been wrenched out of its holder and was now hurtling towards Dumbledore at an amazing speed. However, the Headmaster had regained his control in the fraction of a second that the stranger had given him. With one fluid wave of his wand, he banished the torch over the heads of the students and teachers, who were all watching in awed silence, and conjured a fiery whip that slashed across to the stranger, who hadn't brought up his wand in time – obviously, he had not expected Dumbledore to defend and attack with one wand movement. Still, he did not crumble as the majority of Hogwarts had been expecting, but raised his left hand in a swift cutting motion, like a knife. The fiery whip lashed out and fell to the floor, still writhing, but cleanly cut in two. Dumbledore, too shocked by this move, didn't even try to defend himself against the last attack, a Disarming Spell that had been fired not even a second later. It hit Dumbledore and his wand sailed out of his hand and into that of his opponent.

A shocked silence followed this breathtaking duel. Nobody had ever seen Dumbledore lose a duel, or rather could have imagined this happening (most people had never him in a duel, anyway). Then, like lighting a fire, awed muttering broke loose among teachers and students alike. Dumbledore, however, had already regained his composure. He was smiling warmly at the mysterious man who was still wearing his hood.

"Congratulations. You're hired." Was all that the aging Headmaster said. "What's your name?"

"Ethan Jameson." The stranger replied, hesitating for a split second, something that only Dumbledore and the amber-eyed youth in the first row noticed. The boy's eyes narrowed.

Whispers broke out once again, this time louder than before, but even the people with the best connections to the Ministry had never heard of his name. Who could he be? A wizard, more powerful than Dumbledore, who had never been heard of before?

Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling like mad again, turned his focus from Ethan Jameson and faced the pupils.

"I think that that is all. You may go to your dormitories now. Sleep tight!" Not many students favoured being dismissed like this, especially after the breathtaking performance, as they all wanted to know more about Jameson, but no one, not even those certain members of the Slytherin House who frequently sneered upon Dumbledore, dared to disobey an order from him, for no matter how friendly he had worded it, it was clear that it was one. As the Prefects led the first-years out of the Entrance Hall, along with the older students (though some of them took shortcuts), the Headmaster turned on Jameson again. "May I speak to you in my office?" He said, his blue eyes piercing into the still-hooded man, standing there in the middle of the Entrance Hall. Said man nodded and, with a wave of his wand, the silver cage disappeared. Meanwhile, the Entrance Hall (with a very vocal aid – courtesy of Professor McGonagall) had emptied already and, after bidding the remaining teachers good night, the two men strode up a staircase at their right.

* * *

"Did you see that?" The chubby boy with the mouse-brown hair whispered to his friends as he pulled aside a tapestry showing Paracelsus brewing a potion of a rather nauseous colour. He was obviously awed by the skill that their new Defence teacher had demonstrated. The boy beside him pushed his silky hair out of his vision with a casual elegance that would have made every girl swoon – had there been any present – and rolled his eyes at his friend's question.

"Obviously, Wormtail. We were standing right beside you." As Wormtail blushed, one of the two boys just behind them clapped the speaker on his shoulder, causing him to be whirl around and stare into the hazel-brown eyes behind the round glasses. The latter was looking at his friend with what should be a disappointed look, but said boy didn't quite manage it.

"Now, now, Padfoot. Be nice." He mock-chastised, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the insincerity in his eyes. Truth be told, he was just as amazed by their new teacher as his friends were, but there had been something else. He couldn't quite place it, but the teacher had given him the impression of knowing him from somewhere. However, he struggled to think of where he could know him from, and why wouldn't he remember a wizard of such prodigious skill, if they had indeed met before? Well, maybe he could work it out the next day, when they had their first DADA lesson with him. He turned to the fourth member of the group, whose eyebrows were furrowed – he appeared to be deep in thought.

"What's up, Moony?" The boy asked him, ruffling his black, messy hair with his hand, succeeding only in making it messier.

"I don't really know." Was the answer that he got. "It's just… did you notice that he hesitated before saying his name?"

"What d'you mean?" Padfoot asked, who was listening to their conversation with one ear, just as they turned a corner and could see the portrait of the Fat Lady at the end of the corridor.

"I have no clue. But… you don't really stutter with your own name, do you?" Finally getting what Moony was hinting at, Padfoot snorted.

"You think he's got a false name? C'mon Moony, that's bullshit."

"Doesn't have to be. Maybe he's… I dunno, a target for the Death Eaters or something… I mean, he's powerful to have them interested him, isn't him? And…"

"…he changed his name to disappear." The boy with the messy hair concluded. "That could be it."

"Yeah. If you ignore the fact that he just turned up at a place where You-Know-Who has spies." Wormtail objected, surprising the others. He always appeared to be a little slow at times, but had quite extraordinary amounts of insight in some topics.

"You're right, Pete." Moony said, frowning again. "That doesn't really make sense."

"Well," Padfoot began. "We might find out more tomorrow. You know, in class. I'm too tired now, to be honest."

"That's just an excuse 'cause you can't think." The messy-haired youth teased. Moony and Wormtail snickered lightly while Padfoot pouted.

"Harsh, Prongs. Harsh."

"Oh shush. _Epiphany_." The last word was directed at the Fat Lady, who nodded at the four of them and swung forward to reveal a small hole behind it, through which the four boys climbed. They passed through the comfy Common Room and walked up a staircase at the far end of the tower, where they found a circular room with five four-poster beds. Their luggage had already been brought up to their rooms, so they merely got their pyjamas out of their trunks, brushed their teeth quickly and fell onto their beds, too tired to continue their discussion any further. They fell asleep even before their fifth dorm-mate Frank Longbottom had entered the room.

* * *

"Well, Mr. Jameson. Do sit down. May I offer you a drink?" Dumbledore asked the younger man pleasantly, who had settled down on a chair in front of him.

"No thank you, sir."

"Please, call me Albus, now that we are colleagues."

"Alright, Albus." Jameson said, finally pulling off his hood to reveal his face. It was severely scarred in many places, the most eye-catching one being a very fine scar on his forehead, in the shape of a lightning bolt. His black, shoulder-length hair, which was messier than that of Padfoot, was pulled back into a ponytail. His eyes were blue, but somewhat dull and lifeless, as though they had suffered through too much pain to carry on. Dumbledore eyed him critically, his eyes resting a tad longer on the scar on his forehead than on his other features.

"Could you tell me a little about yourself?" He inquired, once he had finished his scrutiny. Jameson hesitated, then nodded.

"But this has to stay between us, alright?" Dumbledore nodded, wondering what Jameson wanted to tell him that could be of such importance.

"My name is not really Ethan Jameson. My name is Harry Potter."

"I see. Are you related to James Potter, a Seventh Year Gryffindor, by any chance?"

"Yes, I am." The man said. He hesitated again, then spoke. "I'm his son."


	2. Pain and Paradox

__**Here's Chapter 2! So, I changed small bits of the previous chapter without dire consequences, so a considerably higher amount has been edited this time, some details added and some omitted. Don't worry the changes aren't drastic... same as before in the original version =]**

**Anyway, I want to thank Mythomagic-Champion, , almostinsane and xTeionx for their reviews :D You have no idea how happy I am! And also for the faves and follows, of course :D Thanks! I hoped I haven't messed up yet =]**

__Chapter 2 - Pain and Paradox

_"My name is not really Ethan Jameson. My name is Harry Potter."_

_"I see. Are you related to James Potter, a Seventh Year Gryffindor, by any chance?"_

_"Yes, I am." The man said. He hesitated again, then spoke. "I'm his son."_

Upon this revelation, Dumbledore's face portrayed something that it rarely ever did: surprise, genuine surprise. Not a flicker of it in his eyes, but full-force surprise written all over the face of this aging wizard. Harry snickered slightly at the look on his former mentor's face – he couldn't remember anything having ever surprised Dumbledore before, to his knowledge, that is. _Well,_ he reasoned, _meeting a time traveller could certainly do that to you. _In fact, he would probably have reacted in the same way. Still, it was hard to imagine the omniscient Leader of the Light with such a befuddled expression on his face.

"James Potter's son?" Albus Dumbledore had to ensure himself that he had heard correctly – for inspite of his age, he had never had hearing problems in his life (magic could do wonders, after all!) yet the alternative to having heard wrongly was even _more _impossible.

"Yes, I am. As you probably guessed – judging by your disbelieving expression – I am from the future." And yet, it was true. Dumbledore sighed, before re-arranging his features into a more relaxed manner, although the surprise was still evident in his eyes.

"But time travel is -" He stopped there, not wanting to say 'impossible', because it clearly_ was_ possible, seeing as this young man was most definitely not lying – though he was skilled beyond anything that Dumbledore had ever seen. While he'd sensed that Occlumency was not Jameson's – no, Potter's – strength, he had refrained from invading his mind. Dumbledore shook his head, and began again. "How did you accomplish this amazing feat?" To his surprise, the young Mr. Potter grinned at him, as if they were sharing an inside joke, though Dumbledore had no idea what joke that might be.

"I managed to this with your help of course!" _Well, with the help of your portrait anyway... _Harry mentally corrected himself. "You gave me the knowledge and the spells to do so, although you – if I can trust the words of your future self – had spent more than two decades researching this topic before it was finally possible to travel into the past." Again, Harry had to mentally correct himself, for time-travel had already been made possible by time-turners since the year 1987 (travelling back for _years_ was the novelty of Dumbledore's work – he didn't dare mention this, as time-turners had not yet been invented in this time).

"But why would I do so?" Dumbledore asked. He respected the laws of nature after all, and didn't want to imagine what would happen if he decided to breach them – and yet he had done so in the future. Harry, however, only smiled mysteriously at him, something that irked him greatly. Harry spotted this, and found pretty ironic, seeing how Dumbledore had the habit of doing the same thing all the time (apparently, he didn't like being out of the loop). _The manipulative hypocrite, _Harry thought, suppressing a chuckle, _doesn't feel good to be kept in the dark, does it?_

"Well…" Harry hesitated. How much could he tell Dumbledore? He could always just keep his mouth shut and see what the old wizard will do. Then again, there was nothing stopping him from simply reading his mind, and so far he's had the decency not to do so. Looking into the Headmaster's eyes, he suddenly realized something. "You're worried about disrupting the natural timeline, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am." The elder wizard admited. Again, Harry grinned at him.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that." He seriously contemplated leaving it there, accompanied with a full-blown twinkle in his eye, just to see how Dumbledore would react to getting a taste of his own medicine, but the moment quickly passed – he knew that Dumbledore always sought the best for everyone, and by knowing far more than most he'd had to carry the burden that came with it.

Harry sighed.

"You see, your future self told me that in 1977, a mysterious stranger appeared to take the DADA post by the name of Ethan Jameson. And during the one year that he stayed, he did something pretty important." Harry took a deep breath before continuing. "He saved James Potter's life."

* * *

"So… what d'you think of him?" Alice Smith asked the girls in her dorm.

"Think of who?" Dorcas Meadowes asked, feigning stupidity – even though she knew what she meant, Dorcas loved winding Alice up like this. It worked every single time. Sure enough, Alice rolled her eyes in a manner of complete exasperation.

"Jameson, of course, you… you dork!" Alice said quite loudly – she had the habit of becoming loud and sassy pretty quickly, but once you got to know her, she was a really good friend in all aspects. She desperately needed to work on her insults though, as her friends quite often reminder her, and calling _Dorcas _a _dork_ definitely hit rock-bottom, which Marlene McKinnon was – as always – quick to remark on. "Yeah… anyway. What d'you think of him?" Alice repeated, trying to steer the conversation out of these dangerous waters by attempting to breach a topic that her roommates found equally interesting – and which saved her from severe embarrassment. Dorcas saw her round face blushing crimson and decided to take pity on her – there would be an entire year to tease her, she didn't need to begin on the first day.

"I dunno… of course he's pretty powerful and all that, but that doesn't mean that he's a pleasant guy and all that, right? Sure, it'll be interesting, but I can't really say if I like him, you know what I mean? Don't get me wrong – he's really powerful and all that, but… I don't know. Maybe this just seems too good to be true after… What is it? Five crap professors in a row?"

Their previous Professor, a guy called Ryan Edwards, hadn't taught them anything at all – they had simply read from the textbook. They knew that he had been a capable duellist, but it didn't help that he had two children their age and, because of this, sugar-coated the subject of DADA to the extreme – he nearly declined the existence of Death Eaters, in the name of _keeping them safe_, of course. The teens knew that nobody wanted to apply for the job anymore and that Dumbledore had to take anyone who wanted the position. He hadn't been entirely inept, but it still frustrated them that the only competent teacher they've had was during their first year, when an ex-Auror by the name of George Crysner had quit his job due to a severe injury, and decided he had nothing better to do with his time.

Alice and Marlene affirmed Dorcas' statement while undressing, but Lily Evans didn't – she was looking as though something was bothering her greatly as she pulled her long red hair into a ponytail, as she always did before sleeping.

"Lily? You okay?" Marlene asked, as she snuggled under her covers.

"The new guy… Jameson. I don't know… when I saw him, heard his voice, I had a really weird feeling… something that I've never felt before… as though he were a… a part of me or something." The moment Lily said these words, she felt stupid – something which happened quite rarely – but she couldn't think of any other way put these feelings into words. Sure enough, teasing comments soon ensued.

"Ohhhh…. Maybe he's your one and only!"

"The guy you're predestined to be with!"

"The one to pick our pretty Lily's flower!" Marlene got hit by a pillow in the face for that comment.

"Oh shut up. This is serious. Really, I…" Lily broke off. Even though it was really there, she knew that this was a feeling that she couldn't explain to the girls. She finished undressing and laid herself onto her comfy bed. "Anyway. Sleep well." She said, effectively ending the discussion as she turned to the wall and closed her eyes, her thoughts still circling around Ethan Jameson...

* * *

"Excuse me? You saved James Potter's life before you were even born?" Dumbledore asked, once again surprised to no ends. This conversation was unlike any other he'd had over all the years – he had always been prepared, kept an impassive mask, ever since that fateful day on which he had committed the worst mistake of his life. Since then, he had always been prepared, had always given the direction of the conversation – until this one conversation with a person that baffled him like no-one else ever had before, and his answers weren't really helpful either – they only added to his confusion.

"I did." Harry said, no trace of a smile on his face this time, but a very solemn look. "It's a paradox, I know. I've thought about it for a really, really long time – ever since your future self told me of this journey – but I only succeeded in getting a headache, 'cause how do you explain something that you can't explain? But that's the way it is, that's pretty much the only thing that I'm sure of. I won't be changing the natural timeline with this – for lack of a better word – visit, as it had happened all along. Or will happen? Whatever." Harry tried to explain the situation that he couldn't really understand himself, but thought he got the point across fairly well, so just waved a hand in dismissal.

Whether or not Dumbledore understood the concept of what Harry was trying to convey, he nodded politely once, then he stood up, looking very businesslike all of a sudden. "Well, Mr. Jameson – may I call you Ethan?" By shifting to his alias, he signaled to Harry that the personal part of this conversation was over and that they were, as his demeanour had already suggested, switching over to business – Harry was far too used to Dumbledore's ways to be surprised by this sudden change of subject.

"You may, Professor."

"Then call me Albus, Ethan. This is your timetable." he handed Harry a sheet of parchment which he quickly scanned, noting with joy and more than a little panic that he would be teaching the Marauders and his parents first thing next morning. "As to the curriculum, there hasn't really been a fixed one for years, therefore I trust your judgement as a capable expert on the Dark Arts and the defence against them to come up with one of your own. I just have one favour to ask of you: please cover the Unforgivables in the Sixth and Seventh Years – the Fifth Year as well, if you think it necessary – the children really need to know what they are to expect out there in the war, no matter what the Ministry says about this. Alright?

Harry nodded – he had already planned on teaching the Unforgivables as the first or second lesson, ever since Dumbledore had told him of the mission that he had to accomplish in the past. "You're right. That is really a necessity for them to know. Would you allow me to perform the Imperius Curse on them?" Harry asked, blurting out the last part – he didn't know how Dumbledore would react to this, but he thought this to be very important, especially with the war raging openly beyond the gates of Hogwarts. However, he didn't know if Dumbledore had really ordered the fake Mad-Eye Moody to perform the Imperius Curse on the students or not, and was therefore unsure how the Hogwarts Headmaster would react – he valued the safety of the students a lot.

Dumbledore eyed him for a long time and Harry started to feel uncomfortable under his gaze. Even though he was more powerful than the elder wizard, he hated the thought that he might disappoint him in his assessment – Dumbledore's respect still meant a lot to him. Finally however, and much to Harry's relief, Dumbledore nodded. "You may. Better they learn in class than being hit unawares later. However – I probably don't need to tell you this, but – be careful. An Imperius Curse performed while the mind is not focused…" Dumbledore let this sentence hang – there was no need for him to finish it. After a few seconds of silence, he eyed Harry over his half-moon spectacles. "I am placing a great deal of trust in you. I hope that you won't disappoint me."

Harry nodded coolly, albeit squirming on the inside – no matter what he had experienced, Dumbledore's gaze still seemed to X-ray him, right down to his bones. He stood up, recognizing the dismissal, and slung his travelling cloak over his arm. "Goodnight, Prof- Albus." He said and turned to the door.

"Should I -"

"No need, I know were the quarters of the Defense teacher is." With these words, Harry reached for the door and left the room.

* * *

Outside the room, Harry stood still for a second – he had completely forgotten the power of Dumbledore's gaze and it made him uncomfortable to feel it upon him again, something he had thought impossible after the death of his mentor. He shook his head and walked on through the empty corridors of his first home, the thoughts that he had been suppressing since his arrival surfacing again. Most prominent was the face of Dennis Creevey.

"_You know, Colin stunned me when he left to join the fighting. He said I was too young. And you know what else he said? He said that he couldn't die. He would be safe, because Harry Potter had been his teacher. The Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One. How could he lose, how could he die, when _you_ had trained him?"_

_Dennis face turned into a twisted mask full of regret, spite and hatred, before turning into a sick smile while he stepped closer to a petrified Harry. "He died for you." His voice was so quiet that any other sound would have drowned it, but in the Great Hall, where Dennis was standing before Harry, it pierced through the silence."You failed him. He always said that you would come and save us all. He really believed that. I did as well." Dennis voice dropped even further, his brown eyes sparkling with a ferocity that drove Harry back. "But guess what? It was all a lie. All of it. He died, fighting for a hero that came a few hours later – that never came for him." His grimace turned into a smile. "You were a great teacher. Too bad that didn't stop the Death Eaters cutting him into pieces. And even then, he was smiling. 'Cause he believed in you. Until the end." Dennis' voice was sickly sweet now. "Sleep well, Chosen One."_

Harry felt the urge to throw up, to cleanse himself of the nausea that swept through him. In some ways, it irked him that Voldemort was gone now. There was no fighting, no bloodshed – left only were his thoughts, thoughts that were haunted by the victims of those that his actions had caused. These thoughts were his only companions in a world where death still reigned, even without Voldemort.

It was silly, really, but Harry had hoped that this trip would help him to flee from these thoughts. Nothing of this sort happened – why should it? Here he was, in the past, unable to change anything – besides, would he be able to change anything anyway? Or did his actions in the past shape the future that had already happened to him? He couldn't do a thing and yet the voices inside his head were telling him that he could, that he should, that he shouldn't be so damn selfish. The guilt in him burned like fire and yet froze like ice – hot yet cold, aggressive yet numbing. What did he feel? He didn't know – but whatever it was, he was alone, all alone with himself and the pain.


	3. The Unforgivable

**Sorry this was slightly later than usual, but you know, homework. I don't think I like Highers.**

**Anyway, moving on, thanks to Mythomagic-Champion and almostinsane for the reviews =]**

**Here's Chapter 3 :D**

Chapter 3 - The Unforgivable

Harry Potter, or – as he was now calling himself – Ethan Jameson, awoke, sweating and panting in his bed. His pillow was wrinkled and wet in a few places, though he didn't know if they were from tears or drops of sweat – both were possible. He had kicked his sheets to the floor during the night, something that didn't really surprise him – ever since he had had the time to rest, his past had mercilessly caught up with him and visions of the horrors that he'd experienced flashed through his sleep every night. Sirius falling through the Veil, suddenly turning his head towards him and silently pleading for help, knowing that it was no use… Hands of rotten flesh closing around his neck, dragging him down, deep into the dark where no one would ever find him again… A beautiful young woman falling like a puppet whose strings had been cut, accompanied by cruel laughter and a flash of green light…

_His mother, _he thought_._ She was alive, sleeping in the same castle as he was, innocent and unblemished. And she would die. In four years her body, now so full of life, would become nothing more but an empty shell. He could tell her, help her, he could-

No.

He couldn't.

The timeline couldn't be changed. It had already happened and if he told her, she would die just the same. Or Fate would shift his bloody and cruel destiny onto someone else – he couldn't force his life on someone innocent. He couldn't. And yet-

Harry got up, shaking these bitter thoughts from him. He quickly dressed in a black sweatshirt (one his cousin had worn at the age of twelve that now, at the age of eighteen, fit Harry perfectly), sweat pants and trainers. He'd noticed that was still early in the day, but knew that it would be impossible to find sleep again, so he figured he might as well go out flying. Shouldering his Firebolt and slowly making his way through his first home, he relished in its unscathed appearance – even a year after the Battle of Hogwarts in which Voldemort had fallen, the castle still bore scars of the battle, just like everyone else. Walking amongst those halls would always remind him of the death and destruction that had occurred there, something that he knew would always cause him pain and discomfort. But this, this castle that had yet to see the cruelty of war, and it reminded him not of the battle, but of the many hours of happiness he had spent here with his friends, a feeling that he hadn't felt for quite a long time.

Following a rather extended stroll through the halls of Hogwarts, he finally reached the gates. After hesitating for a moment, he simply raised his hand and it opened, recognizing him as an authority figure. He walked through it and took in a deep breath of the cool, clean morning air. The sun was just rising and peered over the mountains that surrounded the castle as a large orange disc. With one more breath, Harry mounted the broom and took off into the morning sky.

In that moment when his feet left the ground, all his troubles, his worries, the looming, accusatory faces, left him as well. Only euphoria and bliss travelled his body, spreading through him and warming him from the inside. This was it, the true life, where he truly felt happy. Up and up he went, higher and higher until the cold air was burning in his eyes. The cold awakened him, and yet he was impervious to it as he felt truly alive for the first time in ages. There had been too much to do following the aftermath of the battle, and now he was finally able to appreciate the feeling of freedom that should have come a long, long time ago.

Thousands of feet up in the air, he steadied his broom and looked around. He was higher than he had ever been before, overlooking all of the Hogwarts grounds – the huge castle seemed no larger than one of the plastic castles that he had seen in many Muggle primary schools; the Forbidden Forest looked like an uneven, dark green rug spread for miles; the Whomping Willow no more than a pin speck in the distance. Only the grey mountains still towered above him, like ancient guardians of a treasure long forgotten.

Harry pulled his broom into a slow dive before accelerating more and more, until he was nearly free falling through the air. The wind whipped his eyes, yet he kept them open, every sense of his body alert as adrenaline rushed through his body.

100 feet.

50 feet.

20 feet.

10 feet.

5 feet. At this point, he pulled out of the hairpin dive, his shoes brushing the soft grass of the Hogwarts grounds as he shot up into the sky once more, spiralling like a hawk in its dive. He smiled to himself, feeling content for the first time since what felt like forever. The feeling of flying through the skies, not having to worry about dying any second, with no Dark Lord on his heel, was something that he couldn't have ever put into words.

After approximately half an hour, Harry ended his flying session reluctantly. The sun was slowly creeping atop the mountains and he knew that breakfast would start soon. He hurtled towards the ground one last time, this time drawing to halt only one or two feet above the ground and dismounted his broom, euphoria still filling him. However, what he hadn't counted on was a young boy in shabby robes sitting on the wet grass, watching him intently with his amber eyes. Harry was quite surprised at seeing his honorary uncle and mentor at such a young age – he had counted on a few more hours to prepare himself for that – but he quickly arranged his features into a genuine smile.

"Remus Lupin." He greeted the sandy-haired boy with a nod, whose turn it was now to be surprised. How did this new arrival know his name? Smiling gently, Harry answered the question that had formed upon the werewolf's face. "Professor McGonagall warned me about you and your friends at the opening feast. She said that I had to be careful around you." Remus smiled, but he looked a little nervous all the same – he was probably unsure how to act with this new teacher. Sensing his discomfort, Harry took over the conversation.

"Do you often come out here in the morning, before sunrise?" Remus nodded.

"Yes. I'm an early riser, unlike my dorm-mates." He smiled weakly. "You fly very well. I watched you for a while." Harry felt himself blush – no matter how often he heard it, he simply couldn't handle a compliment.

"Thanks. Do you fly?" He asked, not feigning ignorance, but really not knowing. Remus shrugged.

"I do, sometimes, and I'm not half bad. But I'm no Quidditch nut like James – James Potter, a friend of mine and Gryffindor team captain." He added, mistaking Harry's faraway look for confusion. Harry snapped back to the teenager, smiling.

"Yes, Professor McGonagall mentioned him as well. He's quite a prankster, isn't he?" Remus scrutinized him carefully. This was always the problem, in his opinion, with new teacher (mostly DADA teachers, as they changed every year) – one never knew how to behave with him. Would affirming this statement cause the professor to keep an annoyingly watchful eye on them? Or would he rather be secretly amused, like Professor McGonagall? _Well_, Remus conceded,_ he'll find out anyway, won't he?_

"Yes, he is." This answer intrigued Harry, for it showed that Remus already trusted him a little. With a sudden jolt he realized that he had never found out anything about the Marauders and their pranks. Biting his tongue to prevent himself from asking – for he knew that that would make Remus suspicious – he asked another question

"What did you cover in your last years of DADA? I haven't seen any notes of that sort and Dumbledore was rather vague as well." He didn't particularly need to know this right now – he could always ask in the first lesson – but he desperately needed to shift the conversation from these dangerous waters before he said something stupid.

"Well…" Remus began, thinking back. "First, second and third are pretty much forgettable. We talked a lot about the theory of jinxes and hexes and stuff like that, but we didn't really do anything practical. Fourth year, we did Dark creatures, but the teacher was quite incompetent. He couldn't really handle the stuff – he knew the theory, but he hadn't had any experience before." Remus shuddered at the memory – they had covered werewolves and one lesson he had brought a silver plate with him, as an example of what could be used effectively against them. He'd passed it around and it had taken all of Remus' willpower to not faint. "Yeah… Where was I? Right, fifth year. We did a lot of theory that year as well, and the teacher performed some spells, but we didn't actually do things ourselves. Curses were the topic, I think. Yeah, curses. But only minor ones, nothing Dark or really big." Harry nodded, but he couldn't stop himself from frowning slightly at this description. That sounded about as bad as his Defence education and he had really thought that had already hit rock-bottom. How had they passed their O.W.L.'s? They hadn't had a club like the D.A., after all.

"And your sixth year?" he asked. Remus' face contorted in distaste.

"Nearly worthless. The guy had kids our age, though they were being homeschooled, and he sugar-coated everything. Maybe because he thought of us a substitute for his kids that he couldn't see over the school year, I dunno. He mainly told stories that were only very, very loosely related to the Dark Arts, if at all. When someone complained about that, he taught us a few charms and hexes, like the Shield Charm and the Stinging Hex, for two or three lessons, before falling sick for nearly a month and then, for 'medical purposes', as he put it, reverting back to his original teaching style." Remus' facial features and twitching eyes told Harry, who was watching the young boy closely (mostly out of habit) that he had been the one to complain, but that he didn't want to stand out. He grinned to himself – Remus was just as he had been when he had known him. Forcing himself not to think of Remus' dead body, lying in the Great Hall with hollow eyes, he stood up from the cold grass and started to head slowly towards the castle, his Firebolt on his shoulder. It was now only twenty minutes to breakfast and he wanted to take a shower before eating. Remus stood up as well and accompanied him, Harry taking the conversation up again.

"So we have a lot to catch up on." Harry said dryly, his mind already on the things that the Seventh Years had to learn. _Patroni… Wandless combat… Duelling… _"What did you say?" Harry asked, Remus' unheard question pulling him out of his thoughts.

"I asked whether you always went outside in the morning, Professor." Remus asked and watched in shock as the expression of his professor turned from a light, pleasant one to a dark face that looked so much older than the eighteen years that it was.

"Nightmares." Was the only answer that Remus got, and he sensed that this wasn't a topic that he wanted to discuss. They had reached the large doors of Hogwarts and both strode through. Harry quickly turned to the right. "See you in class, Remus." He dismissed the young teen curtly and strode up to his quarters, his mind once again swimming with the faces of the dead. _We died for you. We all… _He violently shook his head, but the accusing faces remained. _Unforgivable._

* * *

Remus stood where Professor Jameson had left him, confused. What kind of nightmares could a young man, only a year older than himself, have that could cause him to retreat within himself in such a way? And why did he look at him when he asked that question, not mad for bringing up such a topic, but only terrible sadness and pain in his eyes? It didn't make any sense in the least.

Being deep in thought as he slowly trudged towards his Common Room, he didn't notice the person coming his way until they had almost walked into each other.

"Oh, hello Remus!" He was greeted by a young, very pretty woman with emerald eyes and red hair. "Nice to see you. Why are you up this early?" Remus shrugged. Truth be told, he didn't know himself.

"I dunno. I just woke up and couldn't sleep anymore." Lily nodded, watching the wiry boy intently.

"Are you alright? You look… I dunno, troubled." Remus smiled weakly.

"Do I?" Lily nodded again, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I met Professor Jameson outside and we talked a little."

"And? What's he like?" she inquired.

"He's quite nice. You can talk with him quite well and I brought him up-to-date with what we had done in DADA the last few years. But at the end of the conversation…" Remus explained the whole episode to her. When he had finished, she looked quite pensive. Finally, she spoke up.

"I don't know, Remus. You might be reading too much into it. Maybe you remind him of someone that he knew once or something."

Remus nodded, even though he knew that that was not the case. He didn't quite know why, but he was sure that the sadness in his Professor's eyes had been directed towards him. _But I've never met the guy! How could that be?, _he asked himself. _You must be imagining stuff. Snap out of it, Lupin._

"You coming down to breakfast?" Lily asked her friend. Remus didn't seem to have heard her at first, but then he nodded, still looking unsettled.

"Let's go."

* * *

Harry pulled a few papers towards him and turned his gaze onto them, without really registering what they said. Though perfectly calm on the outside, he was a nervous wreck inside. In five minutes, the door of his classroom would open and he would meet his parents for the first time in his life (that he could remember, that is). It was somewhat ironic, he thought, that he had faced Lord Voldemort seven times with determination but was on the verge of a nervous breakdown simply having to teach a few seventeen-year-olds. What if they hated him? Could he live with his parents hating him? Or worse, if they didn't acknowledge him at all, if they-

Breathe, Harry, breathe.

Everything would be fine. That was the mantra that he kept repeating to himself, without any real conviction. He glanced at his watch. Two minutes – where had the last three minutes gone? He went over his lesson plan again, mainly to distract the thoughts running amok in his head. Introduction. The year plans. And then… the Unforgivables. In his head, it sounded like a good plan, but what if it didn't work? If they-

The door opened (what happened to the last two minutes?) and the Seventh Year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws filed in, chatting amiably amongst each others, most of them not really awake yet. _Well,_ Harry thought, _this class will wake them up, that's for sure._ He scanned the student masses, looking for the people that he craved and yet dreaded to see the most.

There. Dark red hair, emerald green eyes. _My eyes, _he thought. Lily Evans had just entered the room, her bag slung casually over her shoulder. She was chatting with two other girls, a round-faced, kind-looking girl and a slender, tall girl with black hair, but he only had eyes for his mother. She was even more beautiful than he could remember seeing her in the Mirror of Erised or in Snape's memory. Her facial features were kind and soft and her brilliant green eyes sparkled with amusement over something that her companion just told her-

Wait. Was that Neville's mother? Harry looked at the second of the three girls closely and could see the familiar features of his friend in her face, now that he looked at her closely. She had brown hair that was a little shorter than Lily's and kind, brown eyes that looked innocent and carefree. Harry shuddered – he couldn't imagine her as the living skeleton with the sunken face that he had seen at St. Mungo's. His dreams returned to his mind, but he pushed them back. He couldn't dwell on them now.

As they sat down, he tore his eyes from her – he didn't want to be caught staring at a pupil because that would almost certainly be interpreted in a wrong way, a very wrong way. Instead, he surveyed the other pupils that had entered the room. In some places he could see vaguely familiar features, like a young Marc Goldstein or a young Joanna O'Neill, who would later marry to be Joanna Finnigan, but the people he was really looking for had not sat down yet, in fact, they were nowhere to be seen.

There! They had just entered the room, chatting quietly, but gazing respectfully at Harry. He smiled at them and gestured to their seats, while watching the four of them closely.

James Potter looked just like he would look, had he not changed his appearance. Messy black hair, a short yet athletic build, and round glasses. For a fraction of a second Harry thought that, even though he knew that this was his father, he was looking in a mirror. Only when James looked up could Harry see the eyes of his father, which were, unlike his own, not emerald green, but hazel brown and full of mischief.

Sirius Black was more handsome than Harry had ever seen him – his silky black hair fell elegantly on his shoulders and his gray eyes sparkled with amusement just as those of his friend did. However, the sparkle could not quite mask the coldness and the bitterness thise eyes held – probably courtesy to Sirius' childhood at Grimmauld Place, Number 12.

Remus Lupin looked lifetimes younger than Harry had ever seen him in flesh, even though it would only be a little more than fifteen years until he would first set his eyes upon him on the Hogwarts Express. All the same, his hair was already greying around his temples. His amber eyes were alert and they were gazing at Harry questioningly. _Shit. _Harry thought. _I need to talk to him – he's probably freaked out from this morning._ Finally, with great distaste of which he hoped wasn't visible on his face, he turned his eyes on the fourth Marauder.

Peter Pettigrew looked uncannily like his future self, perhaps to the greatest extent of all the four, though this wasn't anything positive. His back was hunched, his mouse-brown hair lying flat on his head. He was slightly chubby and his eyes were watery, as though he had been gazing into a bright light for a very long time. Harry slowly shook his head and shifted his gaze from the fourth, hated Marauder. He couldn't do anything against Pettigrew – Voldemort's most pitiful servant had to die in the cellar of Malfoy Manor, choked by his own hand.

"Right." Harry said loudly, distracting himself from the bitter thoughts he had been thinking since his arrival in the past. "You have probably remembered my name from Professor Dumbledore's introduction yesterday, but I will introduce myself once again. My name is Ethan Jameson and I am here to teach you how to defend yourself against the Dark Arts during the following year." Hmmm. Not very preppy. "The Dark Arts are out there, waiting for you. They can strike at any time and in any form. What you are fighting is shapeless, faceless and deadly." He looked around the class and was pleased to see that everyone was gazing at him intently, awe, fear and respect in their eyes. "What I will teach you here might be the only thing that could stand between you killing all of your friends under alien command, excruciating pain or death." Harry saw a few people shiver amongst the class, but most people held his stare, as he pierced everyone with his eyes for a few seconds. "Alright. I just told you three things that could happen to you. These three things that I described represent three curses. Does anyone know which ones?"

A few hands went up in the air, including Marc Goldstein, Lily, Sirius and a Ravenclaw with long black hair whose name Harry didn't know. He called on her first because he couldn't really fathom how he would react if his parents told him of the curses that would destroy their lives.

"You there in the back – I'm afraid I don't know your name."

"Sara, Sir. Sara Hiekel." Harry nodded, memorizing the name. "The first curse you were talking about is the Imperius Curse."

"Correct, Miss Hiekel. Can you tell me what this curse does?"

"It gives the caster control over the victim."

"Correct in essentials. Ten points to Ravenclaw." Harry said, looking at Sara, who looked confused at what he had said. "However, the control that the caster has is not absolute. The Imperius Curse can be fought, though one needs real strength of character to do so, and not everyone is able to." He looked around the class and saw many eager faces amongst the students, as though they were eager to show that they had the strength to do so. _Well,_ Harry thought, _they will see in the next lesson._ "Alright. Anyone know another of the curses that I've mentioned?"

Again, Sirius hand shot in the air, just as Alice's did. He called on Sirius, not wanting Alice to talk about the Cruciatus Curse (he thought that that would be the next one, as he had mentioned it as the second curse).

"Mr. Black?"

"Sir, there's the Cruciatus Curse. It causes, just as you said, excruciating pain." Harry nodded, shivering slightly.

"Correct. Ten points to Gryffindor. The Cruciatus Curse causes pain that is impossible to imagine or to comprehend. It is a pain beyond anything that can be experienced otherwise. It's like your bones are on fire, white-hot knives piercing every inch of your skin, youe head bursting open from the inside." This explanation was met with shocked silence. Looking at their faces, Harry knew that none of them could even begin to understand the pain that the Cruciatus Curse inflicted – too bad that that wouldn't last. He quickly glanced at Alice Smith before looking elsewhere, and his eyes landed on Frank Longbottom sitting in the first row, whom hadn't noticed until now. He pulled his gaze from those brown, penetrating eyes of the quiet boy and, with effort, he began talking again.

"The Cruciatus Curse can be fought as well. Not in a way that it breaks the curse but that you can numb your body against the pain. However, it is extremely hard to do so, far, far harder than breaking the Imperius Curse. But if you succeed in _ignoring, _in _numbing _yourself against it, the curse won't hurt you nearly as much. Just push the knives that are stabbing into your body out of your mind." Harry grinned mirthlessly as he finished his explanation – he didn't know the reason himself.

"Right." He clapped his hands together. "Upon that cheerful note, does anyone know the third curse that I spoke of?" Three hands went into the air this time, albeit hesitantly: Lily, Marc Goldstein and Remus.

"Miss Evans."

"S- Sir, it's the Killing Curse. Avada Kedavra."

"Correct. Another ten points to Gryffindor. The name of the curse is pretty self-explanatory. It kills. Instantly. It's impossible to block or counter with conventional magic, so if someone throws it at you, it's dodge or die." Again, most people's expression showed a mixture of awe and disgust. However, Remus brow had furrowed during Harry's last explanation. He slowly raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Lupin?" Harry said, biting himself on the tongue to stop himself from calling the young werewolf by the first name.

"Sir, you said that the Killing Curse could not be countered or blocked by conventional magic. Does that mean there is a defence possible?" Harry sighed – he should have been more careful with what he said.

"Yes, there is. But the odds that you'll ever experience it are next to none." He tried answering it vaguely, but Remus didn't back down.

"But how does it work?"

"Well… have any of you ever heard of the Sacrificial Shield?" Harry gazed around the class, receiving – just as he had expected – only blank looks. Harry sighed. "It's an ancient form of magic – older than the Founders, older than anything traceable, probably as old as time itself. Basically it comes down to this: a person chooses to die for another person, then this person is protected from any curse – even from the Avada Kedavra."

"But Sir, wouldn't that happen quite often then?" The girl sitting next Lily with the long black hair asked.

"Well, Miss – what's your name again?"

"McKinnon, Sir. Marlene McKinnon." Oh right. Now Harry recognized the lively and very attractive young witch from the Order photo that Moody had shown him a few years ago.

"Well, Miss McKinnon, what have to keep in mind is that the person didn't only sacrifice himself for the person in a matter of throwing himself in front of him or hiding the other person behind him, but that had the active choice to live. Only if this person chose to die for the other one, even when offered life, is when this protection comes to work. And that is why it almost never happens – which attacker would give a witness of the attack the chance to walk away instead of murdering him?" Nobody spoke.

"Alright, class. That's it for today. No homework – I'm no fan of it myself, so you probably won't get any in my classes." After a normal lesson, this announcement would have caused loud cheering, but nobody seemed in the mood for that at the moment – nobody even moved. Harry sighed. "Look, I'm not trying to frighten you or anything. But next year, you're outside there and what I just told you could happen to you any second. You need to be prepared. And there's no easy way to do so."

The class filed out of the room in total silence and he waited until the last pupil had left the room before he sat down at the desk and buried his face in his hands, his thoughts haunted by the ghosts of the past that he could not let go again.

"_We died for you." _

Cedric. Dumbledore.

"_You let us die for you."_

Fred. Remus. Tonks.

"_Torn away."_

Sirius. Colin.

"_Ripped away. Ripped apart."_

James. Lily.

"_It's unforgivable."_


	4. When Night Falls

**Hello everyone! Here's the next Chapter!**

**Anyway, I thought from now on I'll suggest some other fics for you to read, because some really are amazing :D Plus I have nothing better to do with my time, so hey, might as well.**

**The Son of Lord Voldemort by shopaholic1369 is pretty good =] That's one of the most recent ones I've read =]**

**So, thanks for the reviews, I realize I've never thanked all those who have faved and followed this story, so thank you as well!**

**Enjoy =]**

Chapter 4 - When Night Falls

"So, how's it going in the past?" Hermione asked, her brown eyes displaying both concern and incredulity that such a phenomenon – time-travel – was even possible (even though Harry was, quite clearly, in the past, as she had repeatedly checked).

"It's alright, I guess." Harry shrugged noncommittally. Truth be told, he wasn't alright in the slightest, but he didn't want his friend to worry and he was unsure how he should phrase it anyway, so he didn't say anything at all. However, Hermione hadn't been his friend for more than seven years to be deceived by such a poorly performed lie – something that Harry sensed, which caused him to change the subject hastily.

"How are the others? Ron, Ginny, the Weasleys, Neville, Luna?" Hermione bit her lip, probably internally debating whether she should press the issue further or not, especially as Harry was trying to distract her from it. Finally, she sighed and answered his question.

"We're all pretty grand here. Ginny has been offered to play for the Holyhead Harpies – as a reserve, but still."

"Wow!" Harry blurted out. "That's great! I mean, the Holyhead Harpies are the-"

"Right. Harry, no need for that, I've heard it thrice already, from Ginny and Ron." Harry nodded dumbly, still happy for his girlfriend. _The Holyhead Harpies!_ _Her favourite team! She'd be over the moon! To bad that I'm not there to celebrate with her. Oh, what I would do with, oh yes, I would-_

"Harry? Are you listening?"

"What? Oh sorry, I zoned out."

"I can see that." Hermione said, her warm brown eyes sparkling with mirth. "You're lucky that Ron didn't see that look." Harry blushed and Hermione giggled.

"And the others?" Harry asked, once again trying to change the topic – not because of emotional pain this time, but because of embarrassment. Hermione shook her head ever so slightly, but allowed him to get away with it again. He was the Savior of the Wizarding World after all, she could cut him some slack.

"Well, the Weasleys are-" Here, she felt a lump forming in her throat. _Fred_. She pushed back her tears and gazed back into the two-way mirror with which she was speaking to Harry. "They are holding up." She said weakly, not even beginning to express the pain that rippled through the red-headed family every second, but Harry understood all too well.

"I know, Hermione. I'm sorry for asking." Harry said, his voice full of concern as he comforted his friend, who shook her head.

"It's- it's hard." She choked out.

"I know." Harry grimaced. "They're here. Every single night. They visit me, their faces looking at me, leering at me, they-" Harry's voice broke, but he forced himself to carry on. "They're all alive right now, sleeping in the same castle as I am. So happy and ignorant of their future. And... and I can't change a goddamn thing." Silence followed this, as Hermione scrutinized the disguised eyes of her friend, eyes that were so alien and yet so familiar to her.

"Harry, I…" She faltered. What was she supposed to say? How could she console him?

"I always thought that it sucked that I didn't have any parents; that the people I cared about were all falling like matchsticks. But you know what? I didn't know a thing. _This_ is the real torture. Looking at their faces, seeing their carefree eyes, all the while knowing the fate that awaits them, and just having to sit here because I'm unable to CHANGE A FUCKING THING!" He screamed the last four words as he tried to shout the iron weight from his chest, one that had intensified through the whole day. "It's like… it's like Life is showing me how messed up my life is, was, from the very start. Life's basically slapping me in the face, saying that this is what I could have had if I hadn't been so damn stupid and unfortunate and whatever. It's like… it's like I'm tied to a wall and I can't move a finger. There's all I ever wanted – love, normalcy, a family – right in front of me and I just need to reach out and grab it." Harry's blue eyes were swimming with tears now as his voice dropped to a whisper. "But I can't."

Silence followed Harry's outburst. Hermione had no idea what to say but she felt that she desperately needed to say something – anything – before Harry killed himself with pain and guilt. But before she could break the silence, Harry spoke up again.

"Hermione, I'm sorry… I mean, this is hard enough for you and I-" He choked on the words that were about to leave his mouth. "- and I just shove this onto you." Hermione shook her head, only in mild exasperation, but that was probably because what Harry had said before had made her sad to an extent that made exasperation to a normal degree impossible.

"It's alright, Harry. I'm there for you." Normally, she would have scolded Harry for being such a guilt-ridden wreck, but she didn't have the heart to do so – not since the Final Battle; not since she knew what Harry was really feeling – this hollowness inside that threatened to consume you, as though a part of you was missing, had been ripped right out of you. She fought back her tears again and tried to arrange her features into a somewhat convincing smile.

"Look. This must be harder for you than I can even begin to imagine." She approached the subject cautiously, unsure how Harry would react, but for the time being, he simply remained impassive. "But you always wanted to meet your parents, spend some time with them. Are you going to pass up that chance just to cry your eyes out in your bedroom and be an emotional wreck?" she grimaced; that was a lot harsher than she had tried to put it.

Harry, however, only grinned weakly. "You're right. As always." He chuckled slightly, along with his bushy-haired friend in 1998. "I won't sit here and mope around about the future. Meeting them was what I always wanted. It'll be hard, but I have to leave the past – the future – whatever – behind." the last part was pretty much to himself, but Hermione heard it as well. "Thanks, Hermione. What would I do without you?"

"You'd probably be long dead." She chuckled, but Harry could clearly see the concern in her eyes. He just smiled, the weight in his chest lifting a little – it had really helped to simply be able to talk about it. The mirror still in his hand, he went over to the window and looked out into the black skies littered with a million tiny stars that framing the moon; a moon that was just rising over the mountains. It surrounded Hogwarts and illuminated the grass like a giant torchlight – a torchlight in perfect circle form.

It was full moon.

He spotted a shadow. Even from this height, Harry could clearly see a tall figure with a pale face, a hooked nose and greasy hair marching straight towards the thrashing extremities of the Whomping Willow.

Severus Snape.

* * *

"Why you are grinning like mad, Pads?" James asked good-naturedly. It was full moon tonight and even though he knew that it was selfish seeing how his best friend had to go through hell twice every full moon night, he couldn't help but look forward to them. He and his friends roaming the Forbidden Forest gave him a sense of freedom that nothing else could even come close to. Save flying, of course. And so, he quite looked forward to the first full moon of the school year when he could finally escape the confines and be free. Be Prongs.

"You remember when Snape attacked us today and sent Wormy to the Hospital Wing by hitting him with a Confundus Charm while he was walking up the stairs, causing him to fall down the whole flight and to break two fingers and his left arm?" James nodded, his blood boiling at the mere thought of the cowardly attack and the face that the Slytherin had made when nobody could prove that it had been him. Upon explaining the situation to McGonagall ('He simply started stumbling. I tried to catch him' – yeah right. – 'but I wasn't quick enough! I didn't do anything! I swear!') and all the while that repulsive smile on his lips, telling them that they couldn't do a goddamn thing against him. James had so badly wanted to knock out every one of his crooked, yellow teeth with his fist.

"Yeah. How could I for- Wait, do you have an idea how to retaliate?" James asked, unable to conceal his eagerness at the thought of humiliating his arch nemesis.

"Oh no. I already have." Sirius face lit up even more, now looking slightly insane and a sense of apprehension filled James as he saw that look. He knew that whenever Sirius had that look on his face that he had completely let the realm of reason behind. No matter how much he hated Snape, there was a certain boundary that he didn't overstep. Sirius, however…

"What did you do?" He tried to convince himself that it wouldn't be too bad, that Sirius knew not to overstep certain boundaries, but this reasoning sounded hollow to him. Every year, when Sirius returned from the place that he refused to call a home, where he was mistreated and shunned by his parents and his brother, his first few pranks were not humiliating, but downright cruel. Every year, he took out everything that his parents pumped into him, that his parents revelled in, onto the house that stood for precisely those ideals – Slytherin. Every callous and scathing comment that his parents made, every torture of an unknown Muggle that had had the bad luck to bump into the members of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, would continuously build up Sirius' anger. And when he was at Hogwarts, he would lash out on the very house that his parents had been in, and in which they had always prided themselves in. Always. After what had happened this summer (Sirius had been subjected to the Cruciatus multiple times, before finally taking refuge at the Potter's house) James dreaded the consequences of Sirius anger – that he had done something unforgivable.

"I told him how to get under Whomping Willow." Frantically, in shock, James looked up, as though he expected Sirius to be joking or something, but his face showed no mirth whatsoever, only a wicked smile and cruel, grey eyes sparkling with insanity.

"You did what?" James knew that he had heard correctly and yet he couldn't have, this was something that even Sirius couldn't consider, no matter when or how or why or-

"It told him how to get into the Shrieking Shack." He said, still smug.

"ARE YOU INSANE?" James exploded, his cheeks steadily reddening as he gazed at his fellow Marauder. "Moony will tear him apart! He… He'll hate himself for that! He'll be sent to Azkaban! You- you-" not even thinking of a suitable insult, James turned around and ran, with only one thought on his mind – _stop him._

Sirius looked after his best mate, slowly realizing what his friend had said – what he had done. The grin slid off his face and he paled, his eyes no longer twinkling, but filled with terror. "Merlin... what have I done?"

* * *

Harry cursed several times as he threw the mirror on the bed – there would be time to explain later – and wrenched open the window. He had no idea that the Willow Incident would happen now. As a matter of a fact, he hadn't had any idea in the slightest when this had happened at all. As the cool night air drifted into Harry's room, he jumped onto the perch and out of the window, waving his wand in complicated swirls and slashes as he plummeted towards the hard ground. Nothing happened.

Fuck.

He tried it again, panic slowly building inside of him as the ground drew nearer and nearer. Only about twenty feet above the ground, he completed the incantation, correctly this time. He sighed in relief as he stopped falling and halted in mid-air for a second, only to begin flying over the Hogwarts grounds – rather ironic, seeing that the person that he was about to save would do exactly the same thing in a little more than twenty years. He looked down and saw that he had come too late. Severus Snape had already entered the tunnel and the Willow was raging again.

* * *

James Potter sprinted across the Hogwarts grounds, taking a path that he took every night of the full moon, and which he could find in his sleep. He was panting and his sides hurt, but he didn't dare to slow down. He knew perfectly well that it was probably too late now anyway – Moony had probably killed or transformed Snape by now – but however slim the chance might be, he had to try. If not for Snape, then for his friend.

Still running, he scanned the grounds around the Whomping Willow – thrashing violently all over the place, like it always did. Suddenly, it stilled, only to awake shortly after. He felt the tiny ray of hope that he had grow ever so slightly. Still in full stride, he waved his wand and a twig whizzed through the smashing branches and prodded a knot on the tree. The Willow froze and James, without giving himself a chance to rest, darted into the passage.

* * *

_What should I do?_ This was what Harry asked himself repeatedly, after he had seen Snape enter the Willow. He knew that Snape would make it out of this relatively unscathed, but maybe that had only been because Harry had intervened? Or had it occurred without his intervention? Or maybe- At that moment, a thought struck him. He had once talked with Sirius about the Willow Incident, during his stay at Grimmauld Place, and Sirius had added a fact that had seemed insignificant to Harry then and probably to Sirius as well.

_Moony didn't attack. He didn't even try to._

The thing that was extraordinary about this was that werewolves had heightened senses - Moony would have smelled the edible humans in the passageway a long time before they actually arrived in the shack, and he would have bolted down there and attacked them before they even knew what hit them.

And suddenly, it all fell into place.

Someone had held him back. Someone had enabled James and Severus to escape from the passageway unharmed, somehow restraining the werewolf from following them, even though he had surely smelled them.

Someone.

Harry.

Cursing again, Harry waved his wand and zoomed off, across the Forbidden Forest and towards Hogsmeade. While flying, he prepared to magically alter the wards around Hogwarts, but there was no need to do so – apparently, the wards only stopped people entering, not leaving, the castle through the air. _Well, _he thought,_ that made that easier._

As soon as he had passed the wards, Harry turned, his mind and willpower entirely focused on the Shrieking Shack. He felt the familiar sensation of being pressed through a tube, but this time, he was oblivious to the discomfort; he only hoped that he made it in time. But he had already done so – hadn't he?

* * *

James cursed as he stumbled over various roots and stones that were sticking out of the ground of the passageway. He was glad for the first time that he was actually quite short, because if he had been as tall as Sirius or Remus, he would have bumped his head on the ceiling with every step he took. Still, he was unwilling to slow down, even though his hopes that nothing would happen were dimming with every step he took. He knew that Moony had such an enhanced sense of smell that he was vaguely wondering why the werewolf wasn't already attacking them. He didn't focus on it, though. He simply stumbled on, oblivious to the various cuts and bruises that he had already acquired on his hands and arms, until he saw the billowing black cloak of his nemesis, who was carefully striding along the tunnel. James exhaled – he had never been and probably would never be this happy to see Severus Snape again. It was high time, though – they were only about a hundred feet from the Shack.

"Snape!" He called out, startling the Slytherin, who had obviously been far too fixed on the path that he was walking along to have noticed the noise that James had made. He whipped around to face him.

"Potter?" Snape sneered with incredulity, a feat that James wouldn't have thought possible beforehand.

"Get back here!" James yelled, panting and clutching his sides. Snape frowned a little. Why would Potter go against what Black had done earlier?

"Why should I?" The Slytherin snarled at the Marauder. James just opened his mouth to speak when the two of them heard a low, wolfish growl travel through the passageway. A growl that James only knew too well.

Snape paled like nothing James had ever witnessed before.

"A… a werewolf?" He stuttered. "Lupin's a werewolf?"

"Just get out of here!" James cried, his voice almost breaking. When Snape didn't react and only stood there, petrified, the Gryffindor grabbed the thin boy by the arm and pulled him back, back out of the tunnel, back to the castle and away from the low growls that followed the two boys.

* * *

Harry was standing in the Shrieking Shack, his wand pointing at the werewolf lying at his feet, encaged in golden light. The amber eyes of the creature bore into Harry with a force that he couldn't possibly describe, and even after everything that he had seen, it made his blood run cold. It was raw and animalistic and yet so very human, as though two personalities were battling within the creature. Needless to say, the animalistic, cruel side had taking fierce control over Moony and forcefully pushed the human side of him back. It was there, but it was like a prisoner in its own body – the raw, sadistic force of the werewolf had brought it to its knees.

All of a sudden, Moony growled and jumped to his feet, scraping his claws on the walls of the cage of light that had enclosed him. Harry saw the cage flicker and added more power into his spell to restrain the young werewolf. As the growl disappeared, Harry heard shouts echoing along the tunnel into the shack and Moony growled once again, clearly craving the flesh that was a mere hundred yards away from him. Finally, the voices diminished slowly and all Harry could hear was the sound of two people stumbling back through the tunnel as quick as they could, Moony's growls accompanying them as they left.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the werewolf stopped growling and retreated ever so slightly from the wall of the cage. Harry let out a breath that he didn't realize he had been holding and, even though the circumstances were no laughing matter at all, allowed himself a small smile.

He had done it. He had saved them.

Everything was happening just the way it should.

Everything was happening just the way it had happened.


	5. Awakening

**Yay, it's on time! Well, I know there's not a set time, but I've set my goal to being Friday afternoon. **

**So yeah, last week I suggested you should read The Son Of Lord Voldemort, but I realize I never actually gave a reason. Whether you care or not, here's the reasoning; unlike most stories of Harry being Voldemort's Heir, this one actually ends up with the Dark Side winning (yet also making it a better world), instead of the prophecy still someone fulfilling itself. Or well, at least so far it seems to go in that direction, and I quite like it because it's not the typical Harry son of Lord Voldemort story :D**

**Anyway! I've got a few of the original chapters left, and then I shall be writing properly :D Yay! I look forward to that :D Hope you guys all stick around for long enough ^_^**

**Now, enjoy!**

Chapter 5 - Awakening

Harry wiped the sweat from his brows, contemplating what to do next. He couldn't be known as the saviour, as the one who had prevented death or lycanthropy of two students, because if he had done so, Remus and Sirius would certainly have told him that their DADA teacher – even though they didn't know that it was him – had somehow saved their lives.

Hold on.

Sirius had told him once that he had gotten a 'disappointed-Dumbledore-lecture' for his actions regarding this incident, when Harry had once mentioned the lecture that he had received in second year for flying the Ford Anglia to school and crashing into the Whomping Willow.

But how did the Headmaster know what had happened?

_Of course, _he smiled. It all made sense.

Harry raised his wand and conjured a Patronus which darted through the walls of the Shrieking Shack, towards the Headmaster's office. He looked at the werewolf at his feet one last time and waved his wand, careful not to meet the beast's eyes. The golden cage flickered and disappeared and Moony immediately tensed his muscles and jumped, precisely at the place where Harry's throat would have been, had he not spun on spot and disappeared.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was sitting in his office, humming and sucking a sherbet, when a majestic silver stag charged through the door as though it weren't there at all – a Patronus. Before Dumbledore could even ponder where it came from, the stag opened its mouth and spoke to him, rendering the elder wizard speechless yet again – something that seemed to be happening quite regularly ever since Harry had come to the past. However, at what he heard, he completely forgot the extraordinary magic behind this, because the message nearly succeeded in turning his blood cold.

"_James Potter and Severus Snape have just entered the Whomping Willow, right after Remus Lupin._"

Without another thought, Albus Dumbledore jumped up from behind his desk and, with astonishing agility considering his age (which sadly no one save his phoenix would ever see) and bolted through the door of his office.

* * *

Panting and covered in dirt and bruises, James Potter and Severus Snape emerged from the passageway that led to the Shrieking Shack. The moment that they left the tree and emerged onto the open grounds, the Whomping Willow began thrashing its branches at them and they literally dragged themselves out of harm's reach, before collapsing onto the cold grass, drained of all their energy.

"Lupin's a werewolf." Snape finally could utter. His face was completely missing his usual sneer, though that could be because he was simply too exhausted to do so – sneering is quite energy-demanding, after all. James simply nodded – he really didn't want to talk to Snape now, but the alternative was going to the common room and talking to Sirius and that was something that he wanted even less. Plus, he wasn't really in a shape to go anywhere at all, so he just lay there on the grass, panting, either oblivious to or deliberately not noticing the fact that he was lying very close to his archenemy.

"Lupin's a werewolf." Snape repeated, the sneer returning, now that he had regained his breath a little. "And he tried to turn me into one. He'll get in huge trouble for that." Even though James was looking somewhere else, he could hear the glee in the Slytherin's voice, and that was enough to make him snap.

"Fuck you." He snarled, turning around and meeting the cold and black eyes of Severus Snape, hazel orbs shining with fury and anger. "It's not exactly his fault that he was _bitten_, is it? So shove your prejudice up your ass." This statement was somewhat hypocritical, coming from James Potter, for he had been prejudiced against everything that was even remotely connected with the Slytherin house from his first day at Hogwarts, but there was no one level-headed enough around to point that out. "And he didn't try to turn you – werewolves have no control whatsoever of what they do on full moon, so if you stir up something against him, you'll pay." He spat. The fury in his eyes was enough to make Snape feel slightly afraid, even though he didn't show this – only if you were familiar with Severus Snape would you have seen his sneer quiver ever so slightly before returning, wider than ever.

"You tried to kill me." Snape hissed at his archenemy, who was currently looking at him like he was something unworthy of his notice.

"Kill you?" James snorted. "I saved your greasy hide, in case you didn't notice."

"Yeah. 'Cause if your prank had succeeded, you'd have been expelled for sure. Amusing prank, isn't it, to send someone after a fully-fledged werewolf?" James looked gobsmacked for a second, then his face darkened and his snarl became even more pronounced.

"That wasn't me. Unlike some others, I know that there are certain limits. But why am I even bothering? You won't believe me anyway." James pushed himself from the wet grass and quickly strode across the grounds, towards the shadowy silhouette of Hogwarts castle. On his way, he turned one last time.

"Remember, Snivellus. One word about Remus and you're dead." And with these words, he spun around and resumed his walk towards the castle, just as Albus Dumbledore strode through the doors and onto the grounds.

* * *

Shame and guilt.

That was what Sirius Orion Black was feeling at the moment, at complete loss of what to say. James Potter had just returned from the Willow to Sirius, who was sitting in the Common Room. He didn't really know why he hadn't run out there as well, but the realization of what his actions had caused had knocked him over. His head had started spinning and he had fainted, disgusted with his actions. The moment that James had returned, things had gotten even worse.

He hated himself even more because even though – miraculously – no one had gotten hurt, the scathing and disregarding tone which James used when speaking to him hurt more than anything else. When he, for the first time since realizing what he had done, had raised his head, he found himself looking directly into the piercing blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore; eyes that were loaded with disappointment. He wished that he could just disappear on the spot.

"Great prank, _Black._" Hearing the venom lacing his name, Sirius flinched like James had hit him. "You're lucky that no one was hurt. Honestly, where's your brain? No, don't answer. I don't think that I can even handle hearing your voice." And without sparing another glance, James stalked right past him and up the stairs into the dormitories, slamming the door behind him.

The moment that James had left the room, despite the fact that the Headmaster was watching him, Sirius broke down in front of the fireplace and began to sob.

Dumbledore watched the crying boy for a few seconds, before he walked over to him and kneeled down in front of him.

"Now, now, Sirius." Nothing happened – on the contrary, Sirius' sobbing intensified, if anything. "No doubt that that was a very foolish thing to do, but nobody got hurt." Whether it was because these words really calmed Sirius down – Albus Dumbledore could be very convincing if he wanted to be – or whether he simply had no tears left to cry, Sirius relaxed slightly and stood up, staggering over to an armchair into which he collapsed, his eyes bloodshot, still hiccoughing slightly, but visibly calmer than he had been half a minute before.

"Now, Sirius. From your attire I know that you regret your actions and that you didn't intend to kill anyone-" At these words, Sirius inwardly cringed, for he did regret that he had given away Remus' secret so flippantly, but there was no regret whatsoever concerning the danger that he had placed Severus Snape in, "-but, as you are probably aware, your actions were very foolish and you are extremely lucky with this outcome." Sirius only nodded once, not trusting himself to speak.

"Can you tell me why you did this?" Dumbledore inquired, his gaze still fixed on the young Gryffindor. Sirius swallowed once and then he began to tell the story. How the situation had escalated in his home over the holidays, how he had ran away, how Snape had hexed Peter earlier that day and had gotten away without punishment and how that had triggered this response. A long silence followed his speech. Finally, Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak and closed it again, not saying anything.

"Sirius, I'm sorry." The second time, he was more successful with speaking, but he had not succeeded in completely banishing the quiver from his voice, though this time Sirius suspected that it had not been caused by anger, but by sorrow – Dumbledore valued the safety of his students very highly, after all. "However…" Dumbledore swallowed again. "This does not excuse your actions." Sirius nodded – while being empathetic, the Headmaster was also very just and he had not expected that this would in any way lighten the punishment that he felt he deserved tenfold.

Dumbledore's face was a greyish sickly colour, and he looked very old all of a sudden. "I really don't want to do this, I… I understand your predicament, it's…" His voice trailed off before he could reveal anything personal. "I must be fair and punish you like I would punish everyone that would try to, even foolhardily, kill another student. 200 points from Gryffindor and three months worth of detention." Sirius swallowed – he hadn't expected anything less, in fact he was certain he deserved worse, but that didn't make the situation any easier. However, he maintained his composed exterior and simply nodded once to signal that he had understood.

The Headmaster looked at Sirius once again and then stood up, more composed this time. "Good night. Try to get some sleep. And don't worry about Remus' secret, I've had a talk with Severus Snape and he has, albeit grudgingly, promised to not reveal this." He sighed once again and slowly walked off, across the room, towards the portrait hole.

"My friends will hate me." Sirius' broken voice rang through the room. Not having meant for anyone to hear this, he blushed when Dumbledore turned once again, eyeing him critically. However, the Headmaster then smiled for the first time since entering the room.

"They won't, Sirius. They know what they've got in you."

Sirius laughed drily. "Yeah right. A traitor and a murderer."

"No, Sirius." Dumbledore shook his head, "A person who made a mistake. A grave mistake, that is true, but nevertheless a mistake, and your friends know that. They might not forgive you instantly, but sometime in the future, they will, I'm sure." And with a last, genuine smile, Albus Dumbledore swept through the portrait hole, leaving the black-haired teen alone in the common room.

No sooner had the portrait hole closed behind him, that Sirius began sobbing again. He couldn't even say why he did, but he did; even though no tears ever escaped his eyes, he sobbed, lying curled up on the floor of the Common Room, sinking into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

This was the position that James Potter found him in the next morning. He had gotten up early, before the other years and their year-mate, Frank Longbottom, to visit Remus in the Hospital Wing. For nearly a minute he stared down at the unmoving, curled-up teen with bloodshot eyes. He contemplated waking him, either to talk to him or to punch him in the face – both had its appeal – but he didn't. He wanted to talk to Remus first – he was, after all, the betrayed one, and he deserved to know what had happened (seeing how werewolves never remembered anything from their transformations). Together, they could decide what to do with Sirius, because if James had ever needed proof that Sirius regretted his actions, he had found it now, but at the same time he didn't want to forgive him just yet; he knew that eventually he would, but that would take time. With one last look at the pitiful form of his best friend, he turned around and left the room.

* * *

Although it was still early, Remus Lupin had already woken up and propped himself up on his bed, gingerly sipping the Healing Potion that Madam Pomfrey had given him. Every inch of his body ached with pain, but Remus was far too used to this to care anymore – he had after all been undergoing this torture for more than ten years now, every night of the full moon. Just as he finished his potion and settled down in his bed again, the door of the Hospital Wing opened and James Potter walked in, looking uncharacteristically sombre yet angry at the same time.

"Hey James." Remus winced – it always hurt to speak after a transformation, something to do with the vocal chords changing drastically. "How come you're already up?" The look on his friend's face wasn't carefree as it usually was, but instead scrunched up with concern. "What's wrong? And where were you last night?" Remus tried to keep the slightly accusatory tone from his voice. Even though he couldn't remember anything from his transformations, he could tell by the damage that he found on himself the following morning whether or not he had been in Animagus company – his friends would always stop him from hurting himself.

James' eyes widened a fraction, and he inwardly swore. He had totally forgotten to accompany Moony over night. Some friend he was! He sighed at the critical look he was receiving and sunk down beside his bed. "Sorry, Moony. About last night. A- A lot happened and I kinda… forgot." He finished lamely.

"Forgot? You never forgot before." Even though Remus didn't like the fact that he put his friends in danger, they had always insisted on accompanying him, and although he wouldn't admit it, a small part of himself felt hurt that they could have forgotten about him. After everything, he had become quite used to their company – which, of course, made the transformations without them even more painful.

James swallowed. "Merlin, I don't know where to start." He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Remus, sensing that something was really off, didn't pressure him. "Okay… you don't remember anything from last night, do you?" He couldn't quite bring himself to speak of Sirius' betrayal, hoping that my some miracle Remus would remember. However Remus shook his head, completely non plussed, just as James had expected yet dreaded.

"I never remember anything. Why should I now?" When James didn't answer, Remus voice became louder and more pushing. "James, what happened last night?" James couldn't bring himself to say anything, as it would only succeed in making the situation seem more real to him. Seeing the look on Remus' face though, he relented.

"All right. But you won't like it." He sighed, not entirely sure where to start. "Okay… you remember what Snape did to Wormtail yesterday?" Remus nodded.

"How could I not? He's just over there, in that bed." James followed his gesture and, sure enough, saw the young, chubby boy sleeping soundly. In his rush to talk to Remus he hadn't noticed the rat Animagus, something that caused him to swear mentally once again. Seriously, _what _kind of friend was he?

"Yeah, well. Anyway, Sirius retaliated. And you know how his pranks are after the holidays." Remus nodded, desperately hoping that this didn't lead in the direction that he thought it did. "Well, and - " Here, James stopped, not wanting to think about what Sirius had endured over the holidays because that would only succeed in making him feel sorry for him, which he didn't want to at the moment. "He told- he told Snape to follow you into the Willow."

Silence followed this statement. Finally, in denial, Remus shook his head. "No. He didn't. He would never do that." James smiled weakly – not because there was anything amusing about the topic, but because that would have been precisely his response if someone had told him this story and he had not experienced it himself.

"But he did. I had to run after Snape. I dragged him out of the passage, but he heard you. Don't worry – Dumbledore made him swear that he wouldn't reveal this and I think he respects Dumbledore, despite the greasy git he is." He added, seeing Remus face pale considerably and him opening his mouth to speak. "Anyway, Dumbledore gave Sirius a lecture and he really seemed to regret what he did – I found him this morning, curled up on the floor of the Common Room. He had been crying all night." Even though James said the last part quietly, Remus heard him perfectly.

After a long and uncomfortable silence, Remus spoke up, his voice now harsher. "Merlin. I- I can't forgive this. I will over time. But not now. Not after this." James nodded appreciatively – this was what he would have done – before, without any kind of warning, Remus broke down and started crying freely.


	6. Thy Will Be Done

**Chapter 6! One more chapter and I'll be writing :D :P**

**Oh yes, anyway, I'm thinking of writing some other stories, well probably just tiny short pieces... so I'll post them at some point =] I hope you're all going to be interested enough to give those a go as well ^_^ That would be much appreciated :D Thanks :D**

**Did anyone watch Merlin today? I was OVERJOYED that Merlin's BACK :D And the episode was amazing - of course =]**

**SO, before I completely lose myself there... enjoy this chapter!**

Chapter 6 - Thy Will Be Done

Somewhere, far from Hogwarts castle, in a dimly lit room, twenty-two people sat around a table in total silence. All had their gazes trained upon one tall figure, sitting at one end of the polished oak table. The man was wearing a simple black robe with the hood drawn back. He was very pale – one could see every vein underneath his skin – and he had hollow cheeks and matted, black hair. Nevertheless, one would never, if confronted by this man, have the impression that this person was sick or powerless, because despite his unhealthy exterior, he was emanating power like a chill of ice that everyone could feel. However, what was most intriguing about his appearance were two things that one could only see on a second look: his facial features were slightly blurred and smeared, as though one was seeing him through a blurry or wet window and his eyes, though black, had slivers of a piercing, unfriendly red merged within. A huge, dark green snake with sparkling eyes was slung casually around his neck, which furthermore emphasized his power. In front of him was a young, handsome man with black silky hair, looking at the ground as to not meet his eyes, kneeling and offering him his left forearm, of which he was carefully scrutinizing every inch of. After what seemed an eternity, the pale man spoke.

"Very well, Regulus." His voice was high and cold and bore more menace than a thousand curses ever could.

"Y- Yes, my Lord?" The kneeling man said hesitantly, still not raising his head to meet the eyes of his Lord.

"Are you willing to take the Mark?" The pale man asked Regulus, who gulped, but nodded earnestly, not that he really had any choice – had he said no at this point, he would have died on the spot, probably after prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus.

"Good…" The pale man hissed, sounding eerily like his companion. He drew his wand from his robes and began weaving complex signs above Regulus' forearm, all the while muttering an incantation which no-one in the room, not even Regulus, could understand. The moment he finished Regulus felt a stabbing pain in his left forearm and, judging by the gestures the rest of the room made, they had felt it as well. When Regulus opened his eyes again, he found a pitch-black mark upon his forearm; shaped like a skull with a snake emerging from its mouth, etched into his skin, was the Dark Mark.

"Very good." The Dark Lord hissed again, the sound almost blending in with the quiet crackling of the fire behind him. "Regulus Arcturus Black, you are now officially part of the Death Eaters." He gave a grim smile, which did nothing to lessen the malicious features. "_Crucio!_" He added casually, as if it were a simple afterthought.

Instantly, Regulus was writhing on the floor. His very bones were on fire, red-hot knives piercing every inch of his body, and feeling as though his brain would burst out of his skull at any moment. It was unbearable, the worst thing that the sixteen-year-old had ever felt in his life that had – admittedly – been quite comfortable until this moment. But this, this capped everything. The pain so intense that it spread through every fibre of his being, that set every muscle, every part of flesh, and every _nerve_ aflame, the pain so intense that he wished for anything – blackout, insanity, death, anything was welcome, if only this would end, this torture, this-

And just as quickly as it had come, it was gone. Regulus was lying on the cold stone floor, the cruel caster standing above him, his wand still raised. Those at the table were mostly maintaining a stoic silence, though a few of them were snickering lightly. Regulus would have liked to glare at them, to snap at them how _they_ would probably _scream_ under this curse, but he found he was too weak to even talk.

"That hurts, Black, doesn't it?" His torturer and master had bent down, so close that their faces were almost touching, his voice filled with mock sympathy causing the snickering amongst the others to increase. "Remember the pain, Black. If you even think of double-crossing me, I'll do things to you that will make you _beg_ for the Cruciatus." Regulus swallowed and nodded once, trying to hide his trembling. "Good. Now that that is settled, Black, take your place next to your dear cousin."

Regulus, knowing that it would be best to not dawdle, raised himself as quickly as he could and hobbled across the room, taking his assigned place between Bellatrix Lestrange (daughter of his mother's brother Cygnus) and Evan Rosier, a Slytherin that had graduated three years ago – Regulus and Evan had been on good terms during their time at Hogwarts together, and Rosier greeted him with a friendly handshake before falling serious again.

"Regulus." The high and cold voice snapped Regulus out of his thoughts. "Now that you have been initiated, I have a task for you. It is quite difficult, but seeing as you are the only Hogwarts student among the ranks of my Death Eaters, you must complete this task or suffer my… displeasure." Nobody needed to know what that meant – they had observed their master's 'displeasure' being demonstrated on Regulus just a few moments ago. "A high ranking Ministry official is stirring up a lot of trouble. We must somehow cause him to back down from his position. Of course, we could kill him, but that does not guarantee that his successor works in our favour. If, however, we were to force him to withdraw his candidature to becoming Head Auror directly before the vote, which takes place on the first day of the Winter Holidays at Hogwarts, his opponent, an operative of mine, will almost certainly win and we would have the entire Auror office under our command.

"Now, here is what I want you to do: I want you to give us power, give us leverage over this man." His face stretched into an evil and mirthless smile. "His son is currently attending Hogwarts. You are to kidnap him and bring him to me, but bring him alive." Regulus nodded, memorizing everything that could be of importance – he didn't want to mess up on his first assignment as that would likely mean he wouldn't receive a second one, and almost certainly guarantee a great deal of pain...

Suppressing a wince, he asked, "What is the name of this student, my Lord?" though he already had an idea whom the Dark Lord was talking about. The answer came in a hiss that was even quieter than any before, but everyone could hear it perfectly.

"James Potter."

* * *

_Freak._ Lily twitched in her sleep, a voice full of malice resonating in her head; a nagging, shrill voice. _Freak. _It haunted her all day and now, it wouldn't even leave her alone at night. _You're a freak._ Lily rolled over in her sleep once again, muttering something incomprehensible about someone named Petunia. _Freak._ Suddenly, she was sitting bolt upright in her four-poster bed, eyes darting around the silent room. She found three other girls sleeping in their beds, but sat still in apprehension as though waiting for someone to jump out of the shadows. But of course, there was no-one there.

She sighed and slumped back into her bed, wiping the sweat off her brows. _Of course there's no-one there, you idiot,_ she reprimanded herself, but this didn't reassure her in the slightest. With disdain, she thought back to the holidays, when Petunia, her elder sister, had taken a lot of sadistic pleasure in whispering precisely that word into her ears as she slept, until the point she would wake up. _Stupid bitch,_ Lily thought savagely, but again, she wasn't convinced by her own train of thought. Even though she hated what Petunia did to her, how she acted around her only because of her magical powers, she hated herself even more for not being able to hate her sister in turn. No matter what Petunia did to her, what scathing comments she made, and how she humiliated her, she would always be the older sister that she loved dearly. Always.

Too bad those feelings were not reciprocated in the slightest.

Lily sighed again, running her hand through her red hair, before glancing at the wristwatch lying on a small table, just past the curtains of her elegant bed. Five twenty-three. She yawned and stood up; might as well take a shower now, as there was no hope of one once Marlene and Dorcas occupied the bathroom. Plus, she knew that attempting to go back to sleep was futile and even if she managed to, she would only see a bony, thin face looming over her. No thanks, she had had enough of _that_ over the holidays. Shaking her head once again to rid herself of the mental image her musings had conjured, she quickly grabbed her clothes and walked into the bathroom.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, Lily was a lot more composed – a very long, scalding hot shower could certainly do that to you. She was currently dressed in black shorts and a green top that matched her eyes quite nicely (this was the outfit she wore in the dormitory and outside of class; she would simply pull her robes over them when need be). Sitting on her bed, she was reading a textbook, her eyes flashing at lightning speed across the pages. When she finally heard someone stir, she raised her head and, sure enough, found the disturbance to be a certain Marlene McKinnon, who was just waking up. She sat up wearily, and yawned widely, rubbing her black eyes and then searching across the dormitory, until her gaze fell upon Lily.

"Morning, Lily." She muttered, still sounding very tired, something that Lily could completely understand – she wasn't a morning person herself and loved to sleep in; when she was not having nightmares, that is. "Why're you already up?"

She shrugged. "Nightmares. About a certain horse-face." Marlene grimaced – being a close friend of Lily's she knew about the stressed relationship between her and her sister.

"My condolences. That would probably cut my sleep short as well. You okay now?" Lily nodded, not really knowing whether she was truly okay or not, but either way, what could Marlene do? Besides worrying about it and pitying her, there was not much she could do, and Lily wanted neither of the option. "What time is it?" Marlene asked her, rubbing her eyes again. Lily glanced at her wristwatch.

"Ten past six. I'd get into the shower before Dorcas wakes up." She warned with a slight smile, glancing over to Dorcas' and Alice's beds, which were still resting in heavy silence. Marlene made a face – probably because that option involved getting up – but she nodded and followed Lily's advice, getting up from her bed to go and take a quick shower.

* * *

Half an hour later, Marlene was fully dressed and awake as well. Normally, she would have taken more time than Lily, but to be fair, she didn't have any nightmares to wash away, Lily conceded as she put on her robe over her outfit. Once she had finished, she and Marlene left the dormitories and descended into the common room, where an odd sight met their eyes.

Lying in front of the fireplace, curled up in a foetal position, was Sirius Black. Both girls had to look twice before conceding their eyes weren't playing tricks on them – this was so strange as they'd never seen Sirius look so... vulnerable. As they slowly approached him, they heard a sort whimper escape his lips, and realized that the carpet around him was wet, soaked with tears.

Marlene bent down in order to prod him awake, but was stopped by a hand around her wrist. Lily did not know whether she was about to comfort him, or to find out what had happened, but either way she knew that it would only make matters worse. Although she didn't know Sirius very well – as they had only gotten a little closer during their sixth year – she knew that if they approached him in this wounded state, it would only succeed in causing him to retreat further into himself.

"Let him be. He needs some sleep, I think. He won't like being comforted be us anyway and he's unlikely to tell us anything either." Marlene hesitated and gazed down at Sirius sadly and longingly, but after a second, she nodded and turned round to face Lily, her face a little pink.

"Maybe Remus is down at breakfast and he can tell us what's up." She offered. Lily nodded slowly and, with another look at the vulnerable teenager, curled up there, they both left the Common Room to go to breakfast.

* * *

The first surprise awaited the two girls in the Entrance Hall. When they looked upon the four jewel-filled glasses that indicated the house points, they reeled in shock. Yesterday, the points had been quite even, with Ravenclaw and Gryffindor just above Slytherin and Hufflepuff – it's only the first week of term, after all. But now, over night, Gryffindor was suddenly two hundred points in the negative.

"What on..." Marlene swore under her breath, and Lily, far too flabbergasted herself by this development, didn't even mind – indeed, she was half in mind to swear alongside with her friend, before reminding herself that, being Head Girl, she had to be a role model for the younger students - not that there were any present at the moment, but still...

"Thank Black for that." A voice echoed behind the girls, coming from the doors to the Great Hall. Said voice was dull and yet filled with menace, something that Lily wouldn't have thought possible before this incident. She spun around, only to find herself gazing at the second surprise of the morning: James Potter.

_What's going on here? Potter never gets up early. And plus, why would he refer to Sirius in such a scathing tone, using his hated surname to cap it all?_ Lily was doing some very quick thinking that wasn't amounting to much, however, and she could see by her expression that Marlene was doing the same. "What… Why?" She managed to ask.

"Doesn't have a brain, I swear, that stupid prick." James answered aggressively.

"What happened? Why is he lying in the Gryffindor Common Room, crying his eyes out? And why are you like this? Did you have a row or what?" Marlene asked, trying to make sense of the situation that was slowly unfurling – without much success, of course.

"What happened?" James sneered in a way to rival Snape. "Oh, you know, the usual, he just nearly killed Snape and gave away a secret of Remus' that he swore to protect with everything that's holy to him. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"I- what- excuse me?" Lily shrieked.

"He's crying, you say?" James continued, disregarding Lily's comment. "Poor him. Been thinking about it all night probably. Too bad that he didn't do that beforehand." And without another word, James stalked past them, his hazel eyes sparkling with fury and, no matter how despretely he tried to push them back, tears fell, leaving the two girls standing there, gobsmacked.

* * *

Lily's and Marlene's confusion didn't abate over breakfast – on the contrary, it only intensified. The more they thought about it, the less sense it made. Of course, Sirius did hate Snape, but kill him? And what did that have to do with a secret that Remus was guarding? An idea was slowly unfurling in Lily's brain, but she pushed it back. _N._, she decided. _That's not possible. Seve- Snape was only imagining stuff. Remus can't be a werewolf, could he?_ Marlene, who had been present during the time when Snape had retold the theory of his to Lily had absolutely no idea, but Lily didn't want to tell her just yet, because a good friend though she was, Marlene was also an avid gossip and if anything leaked about this, even if Remus wasn't a werewolf after all – which she strongly believe, with him being such a nice guy and all that – his reputation could be ruined forever.

_Hold on,_ Lily thought. _I can prove this theory, can't I? I just have to find out whether or not it was a full moon last night. _Upon thinking this, she pulled the lunar calendar from her bag – luckily, Professor Sinistra had assigned them homework concerning lunar calendars over the holidays so this didn't raise any questions from Marlene, though Lily wasn't sure whether she noticed it anyway, the way that she was brooding. Lily smiled a little as she looked into the pretty face of her black-haired friend. When she brooded over things, she retreated into a world of her own – she didn't even seem to notice that she was holding a piece of toast half way to her mouth, though not having taken a single bite of it yet.

Refocusing her mind on the more serious matters, she opened the lunar calendar to the correct page and looked at it, a little afraid of what she would find. She swallowed and looked down onto the page.

There.

Black on white.

Yesterday night had been a full moon.

* * *

Harry was standing in front of the Seventh Years of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw once again, his expression sombre but not as downcast and angst-ridden as it had been during his first lesson. It was rather strange, Harry mused, that he had two lessons on two consecutive days with the people that he was dying to see – coincidence? Or Dumbledore again? He smiled – probably the latter, he realized.

"Okay. You won't need your books this lesson." Normally, the class, led by the Marauders, would have cheered upon hearing this announcement, but for once the Marauders were silent – James and Remus were sitting demonstratively next to each other, pointedly ignoring Sirius. Sirius simply looking downcast – he had obviously accepted that his friends had turned away from him, but the one second that he looked up, Harry could see that his normally carefree face was full of sorrow and regret and his eyes were completely bloodshot. He looked eerily like his Azkaban-haunted future counterpart, Harry surmised sadly. The other part that stopped people from cheering after this announcement were the fresh memories from the lesson they had had only yesterday. Harry looked around the class and sighed upon only seeing faces that were reserved at best. He'd deal with that later, after this lesson, but for now it suited him quite well.

"Please all stand up and come to the front of the room." He instructed. Everyone followed this order, looking a little perplexed all the same. James and Remus were still actively ignoring Sirius and Peter looked very left-out of the whole thing. Unbeknownst to Harry, two other students were watching the Marauders just as intently as he was – Lily and Marlene, still trying to work out what the hell had happened to drive such a rift between these boys, who had been as close as brothers just the day before.

"All right." Harry's voice, though quiet, still carried through the room. He waved his wand and the furniture disappeared, leaving the room completely blank. "You're probably all wondering what we're doing today. Well, I won't beat around the bush. You'll be experiencing and trying to fight the Imperius Curse." Needless to say, this proclamation was met with cries of incredulity and shock from across the room, but Harry silenced them with a wave of his hand. "Yes, I am aware of the fact that this is illegal, but that won't stop any criminal from using them, and you'd best be prepared. However, if anyone is unwilling to face this and would rather be hit by surprise after graduation, you may leave this class now." Just as during Harry's own lesson on this topic, nobody moved.

"I will call you to the front and place the curse on you. You are to try to fight the curse in any way that you can think of. But, a word of warning beforehand. This curse is Unforgivable for a reason. For someone who is not able to fight this curse, the loss of control is absolute. Therefore, even if you are willing to practice this, which is a very worthwhile thing, I assure you, you are under no circumstances to practice this on your own. The will that is forced upon the victim can get out of control very easily and I want nobody here to be playing god." Only the Muggle-borns and half-bloods understood this phrase, but Harry could see that everyone at least got the gist of what he was saying.

"Thy will be done." Lily whispered softly – she didn't know why, but this phrase struck her mind when she heard the Professor's description of the curse. It sounded a lot like religion, she surmised. Complete brainwashing. Maybe that was the reason that wizards had no religion – they had the Imperius Curse, after all.

"Well said, Miss Evans." Professor Jameson said, his words disrupting her train of thought. She blushed, not having realized that he had heard what she'd said. "That's exactly the direction it goes." Seeing that everyone except for one Ravenclaw boy were looking confused, Harry decided to proceed to the practical part.

"Let's begin. Black, Sirius." Sirius tore his face from the ground and looked at Harry with bloodshot eyes – something that almost caused him to break out into tears. After a moment of hesitation, Sirius stepped forward. Remus and James, Harry noticed, were trying to look disinterested but failing epically in doing so –their curiosity had gotten the better of them. He smiled, then raised his wand.

"_Imperio!_"


	7. Padfoot's Tale

**Right! Final of the edited chapters by BlackToWhite =] So, next Chapter is officially my own! Well, not counting the story line of course...**

**Oh yes! Anyway!  
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**_Kyandua_: I shall indeed :D Well, writing from scratch rather than editing as I've done so far will be slightly harder... but it'll be something to keep me occupied with, and a nice distraction :D Hopefully I'll be able to one chapter a week, so that shouldn't be too long a wait :D  
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**_almostinsane_: Whoops, sorry about that, maybe I should have edited that out... I hope you're not too offended by it, and I do apologise =] Besides it's all a matter of perspective, I mean in ancient times like maybe Roman, religion was quite oppressive and uh, brainwashy. Actually the Romans were quite accepting. ANYWAY like I said, hope you're not too offended =] I wouldn't want you to be offended after all =] (And there's no sarcasm in those words, I swear! No, siriusly! ^_^)  
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**Okay, so, moving on; same as usual, enjoy this chapter! And I shall probably have Chapter 8 up next week :P**

Chapter 7 - Padfoot's Tale

_"Let's begin. Black, Sirius." Sirius tore his face from the ground and looked at Harry with bloodshot eyes – something that almost caused him to break out into tears. After a moment of hesitation, Sirius stepped forward. Remus and James, Harry noticed, were trying to look disinterested but failing epically in doing so – their curiosity had gotten the better of them. He smiled, then raised his wand._

_"Imperio!"_

As Harry cast the Imperius Curse on the younger version of his Godfather, he felt something that he had never encountered before – of course, he wasn't the most experienced caster of said curse, but it still surprised him just as much as it repulsed him. As he forced his will upon Sirius to do a trivial action (a cartwheel), he noticed that his will wasn't the only commanding voice inside his head. No, lying dormant, but nevertheless controlling the young Animagus, was a high-pitched, ugly voice that Harry knew only too well – it was the voice that he heard every time he was at Grimmauld Place.

Walburga Black had placed the Imperius Curse upon her own son.

He quickly pushed the bile rising in his throat back down, his brain working at lightning speed. He couldn't let Sirius live under this curse any longer – he himself had lived ten years under the total control of those that he had despised, it might not have been an Imperius Curse, but it was pretty damn close. Now, however, he had to be very careful. If Sirius broke the curse visibly, it would somehow carry around the castle – even in these times of war, it was quite a rare occurrence that a student would be under the Imperius for a such a length of time with no one noticing – everyone would bound to be talking about it. If that were to happen then the Slytherins would certainly get wind of it, meaning Regulus would know of it, and by extension, his parents as well. No, that wouldn't work at all.

Harry grimaced. He had known, deep down that it would end this way, but still he hesitated. This wasn't something that he wanted to do to his godfather, no matter how much he was irked by his callous prank only the night before. But it was for the greater good, wasn't it? Another grimace – he hoped that no-one noticed this, but he couldn't help himself – he forced his will through his wand into the body of the dog Animagus standing in front of him, engulfing into a fierce battle against Walburga Black's will, which he carefully overpowered and expelled from Sirius' mind. He would probably have had a harder time of it if the Imperius had been fresh, but it had been cast about a month ago and Sirius had already begun to unconsciously fight it, which helped to weaken it immensely. As soon as the Imperius Curse on the Black matriarch had been broken, he placed his own curse upon Sirius.

"_Do a cartwheel. Then, pretend that the Imperius Curse has been lifted and go back to the rest of the class. After the lesson is over, come back to the classroom._" Harry could feel Sirius battling against the curse, but he couldn't overcome it – skilled though he was, to throw off the Imperius Curse on his first – no, second try – was a bit beyond Sirius' capabilities. He obediently did the cartwheel and then, as though he was snapping out of a trance, stood up from the floor and dusted off his robes. Nobody cracked a smile at what Sirius had just done – the thought of being subjected to this curse themselves effectively robbed this display of any humour whatsoever.

Harry looked down the list of the class again. Thirteen pupils left that he had to place under the Imperius Curse will upholding that upon Sirius at the same time. He sighed – he seemed to be doing that a lot lately – as he called upon the next person on the list. This was definitely going to be an exhausting lesson.

"Okay, that's it for today." Harry said when he had placed the last person under the Imperius and lifted it. Only Remus Lupin had shown any struggle against the curse, but he too had succumbed under Harry's will after a short battle. "Have a nice day. Until the next lesson, think about your experience under the Imperius Curse and what it felt like. Nothing written, it's just so that we're able to discuss this next week and everyone is able to say something about it, okay?" The students nodded, except for Sirius, who simply remained standing there with the other students in an unusually stiff manner. He had been behaving a little off during the whole lesson and Harry knew that that was caused by his Imperius Curse which he had to uphold while placing it upon the other students as well, which was no easy feat. Perhaps, he surmised, it wasn't that bad that the other Marauders were actively ignoring Sirius – they would have discovered this in a heartbeat and it would have only complicate matters. Instead, they all filed out of the room, without even glancing at Sirius once, who was still standing there, though acting slightly more like himself again now that Harry didn't have to hold two Imperius' simultaneously. The moment the classroom was empty, Harry wandlessly locked the room and cast the Muffliato charm upon the door, before steeling himself for the outburst that would surely follow his lifting of the Imperius Curse.

Sure enough, this happened the moment Sirius was his own master once again. First, Sirius let out a bloodcurdling scream, followed by a deathly growl. His gray eyes flashed in anger and he raised his wand upon Harry, probably blinded by the rage of being a prisoner in his mind for nearly a month. Harry didn't disarm him, though he could have done so in a heartbeat, but he knew that Sirius needed to vent his rage – he had felt the same thing after finding out that he had been kept in the dark for nearly a year and that it had resulted in a death at the end of his fifth year; ironically, in the death of the person who was at the moment standing in front of him, hell-bent to curse the living daylights out of him. He did pull up a shield charm, however – he knew that Sirius knew some very nasty curses, no doubt due to him being a Black, no matter how much he despised it, and Harry didn't feel the need to be on the receiving end of one of them.

After two or three minutes, Sirius collapsed on the floor, jaded, his power completely spent. "Go on." He hissed. "Put me under the Imperius Curse again. You're just like them. Just like my family. Yeah, it's really brave to control your opponents. Don't want to face them in a duel, do you?" Sirius knew that he wasn't making any sense, that he was speaking childishly and pettily, but he didn't care. It felt so good to finally be in control of his own mind after so long that he simply said anything and everything that came to his mind, savouring the pleasure of being in total control.

At his words, he saw Professor Jameson's face harden and he knew that he was dangerously close to crossing a line, but a reckless rage had gripped Sirius, mostly at his mother, who had kept Sirius under the curse for a month, but since she wasn't there for him to take it out on her, he settled for the second option – blaming the Professor, who wasn't exactly guiltless either, placing him under the Imperius Curse.

_Ah, but he released you straight after, and he freed you of your mother's curse as well. He didn't make you do things that you would never even consider, that would make you hate yourself, while forcing you to stay the bubbly joker on the outside, did he? _A nagging voice, sounding surprisingly like Remus, reminded him. He pushed it back – he needed to vent his feelings right now and, frankly, he didn't care whom that hit.

"You _coward_." He spat out. The moment he said that he saw a shadow cross the face of his Professor and he knew that he had now definitely crossed theline. A moment later, it was gone, but replaced by a look of utter disappointment. "I- I'm sorry, Sir."

"No." the Professor retorted. "You aren't. You would never be sorry for that – at least not until you heard my explanation. I did put you under the Imperius Curse, after all, and I expected nothing less from you than to be furious. But can I explain my motives before you attack me again?" He asked with a wry grin.

Warily, Sirius nodded. The fact that he had indeed placed him under the Imperius Curse but had not made any use whatsoever of it seemed to suggest that there was more to it. Nevertheless, the young Black remained cautious – perhaps because of his miserable home life, but he never really trusted anyone. The Marauders were the exception for that, but they had proved themselves over six long years, so the case was a bit different with them than with the Professor. But still… a part of Sirius couldn't help but trust the young man, barely older than he himself was, who was gazing into his face with a look that the young Marauder could not identify.

"Well, there's not much to tell." Harry said, grinning at the look on Sirius face, who had probably imagined a very flashy explanation. "I noticed your mother's Imperius Curse on you and I knew that you would somehow react when I took it off you. The problem with that would have been that it would have no doubt carried around the school that you had been under the Imperius Curse and your brother would no doubt have found out, and he likely have informed your mother. This would probably have caused her to come up with another devilish scheme to control you – I wouldn't put anything past a mother who is capable of doing that to her own son." He added the last part mostly to not appear too omniscient, because that would only raise suspicion, if he knew the horrors of Sirius' home life and what he really felt for his parents and vice-versa in detail. Sirius, however, looked highly sceptical.

"And you're expecting me to believe that?" He raised an eyebrow, but Harry didn't quiver.

"Well, Sirius, I would like to remind you of the fact that I released you from the curse that your mother had put upon you and also the one that I had placed on you right after we were alone and no-one else was watching us." Harry pointed out, slightly amused. He knew Sirius well enough to know that he was only arguing for the sake of show, as not to appear too trusting, but that his reasoning had convinced him already.

"True." Sirius conceded, looking pensive. For a while, nobody said anything, they simply stared at each other in silence. Finally, Sirius got up and nodded once. "I'll get going. Don't worry – I won't tell anyone." He added, heading to the door, but Harry's voice stopped him.

"Wait." Sirius paused in mid-step and turned around slowly.

"What is it, sir? I must really get going to my next lesson."

"No you don't." Harry said, grinning and pointed at the piece of paper that Sirius had dropped while raging – his timetable. "You've got a free period now." Sirius looked at the paper, then at Harry. Slowly, his lips stretched in a wry smile.

"All right. You're good, I'll give you that." He strode back, took the piece of paper from the outstretched hand of his Professor and sat back down. "What is it?" Harry looked slightly uncomfortable all of a sudden.

"Why did your mother Imperius you?" He blurted out before he could stop himself, and Sirius' face darkened. Harry could almost hear the mental shutters clanging shut.

"How does that concern you?" Sirius answered, a lot harsher than he had intended to. The Professor looked a bit surprised, but quickly calmed down and nodded. "I'm sorry, sir. My family is a sore topic." Harry nodded again understandingly.

"I can relate." Harry saw that Sirius didn't believe him in the slightest, so he decided to tell a little bit about himself – he was really curious about the story behind that Imperius Curse and he wanted Sirius to open up to him a little. "I spent the first ten years of my life in the custody of my aunt and uncle who hated magic with every fibre of their being and made sure that I knew that. My parents were murdered when I was one."

Sirius tried to look impassive, but he was having a hard time doing so. His parents had hated him because he actively went against their ideals – Slytherin – which was something that he hated, but to abuse someone for something that they couldn't even control was even beyond the cruelty that he had experienced at the hands of those that shared his blood – he refused to call them parents. He, at least, had earned his punishments by active disregard of their orders, something that he was quite proud of, regardless of what they had done to him because of that.

His professor's eyes bore into him, holding anguish and sadness that he had never experienced before and this, above everything else, motivated Sirius to speak, to trust his teacher with his story.

"Okay. I'll tell you. But be warned, it's a long story." Harry nodded.

"I'm done with lessons for today – I have all the time I want." He answered, trying not to be too pushy about it. He didn't want Sirius to change his decision again. It wasn't really _what_ he was telling him, Harry realized when he gazed into those gray eyes, it was the _fact_ that he was telling him something – he had thought it impossible to ever talk with his godfather again and yet, here he was doing just that.

"I suppose I have to begin at the beginning." He grinned slightly, knowing that James would most certainly have made a joke about that phrasing, but his grin turned into a frown very quickly when he realized that James was no longer his friend and brother. He shook his head – the story he was about to tell, without really knowing why, was miserable enough in itself; he didn't need any more depressing thoughts accompanying that. "I suppose you could call me a pedagogical miracle." Again, he grinned wryly and Harry did so as well, though for different reasons than Sirius thought. "Most people in my family that could have been decent were just so messed up with all that pureblood superiority that they started to believe it for themselves – how could you believe differently if this was all that's been shoved into your brain twenty four seven?"

"But you don't think that way." Harry helped him, for he saw Sirius face clench in disgust. Perhaps it hadn't been such a good idea to get him to talk, but now, there was no going back.

"No." Sirius confirmed. "I don't know why I don't think that way because that was all I was subjected to for the first eleven years of my life, but I just don't. I never believed that purebloods were better than half-bloods, I never believed Muggle-borns to be scum, I just didn't. Even though everyone around me revelled in that crap, it never sounded convincing to me." Harry nodded – so far, this was nothing new; Sirius' future counterpart had told him this much.

"Anyway, I was never one to keep my opinion to myself and this quickly caused my mother to hate me. '_Blood-traitor' _and '_wretched filth-lover'_ were among the tamest words that she threw at me. I got used to it, but it still stung. She…" Sirius broke off here, took a deep breath and started again.

"When I came to Hogwarts and got sorted into Gryffindor, she hated me even more. This was something that she couldn't cover up. You see, she had hid my opinions well from most part of the family, probably fearing the shame that she would have to suffer if the cousins and other relatives found out that she had produced a '_blood-traitor'_." He spat out the last two words like the vile things they were and Harry had to restrain himself from nodding approvingly – not that it would have mattered, as Sirius was far too caught up in the story to even notice him. Harry distinctly thought that this was the first time that Sirius was telling someone this and that it was doing him good as well.

"As much as I hate her, I can't deny that she's creative." Sirius continued, his voice growing continuously bitter. "Insane, yes, completely deranged, yes, but also highly creative. The punishments that she thought out for me were something that I would rather not go into detail about at the moment, but it's suffice to say that they weren't really enjoyable." He shuddered slightly and bile rose again in Harry. Of course, he knew that Sirius hadn't gotten along with his family and that they had not really held back on him, but to hear it like this somehow made it far more real than it had been in the stories that Sirius had told him in the future.

"Things worsened over the years. When they found out that I was friends with Remus, they almost killed me for _befouling the Black name_, as I was constantly told. They ordered me to distance myself from him – my father, to be precise. My mother was so mad that she couldn't form a coherent sentence." He grinned mirthlessly. "In retrospect, it was quite funny to see her standing there, looking as deranged as she was, spouting off words like _ABOMINATION! _or _SHAME OF MY FLESH!_ every few seconds like a broken record." Harry was a little surprised by the Muggle reference, but he then remembered that Sirius had indeed taken Muggle studies – to annoy his mother, of course. "Anyway, that's what my father told me. I spat him in the face and then…" Sirius voice trailed off, but Harry could very well imagine how Orion Black had reacted to this.

"That was last summer. That was pretty bad. But this year, things got out of hand." Sirius stopped at this point, as if unwilling to say more. Harry looked at him questioningly, before he heard a flash of Sirius' future voice echoing inside his head, and he understood what was troubling him. _My brother, Regulus. Joined the Death Eaters at sixteen._ Even though Harry was pretty sure that his brother and he were not friends, Sirius was still hesitant to sell Regulus out. Harry smiled admiringly and decided to nudge Sirius into the right direction.

"Does it have anything to do with your brother?" He asked quietly. Sirius eyes shot up to him, frantically searching his face, but finding nothing.

"Ho- How did you know?" Sirius croaked.

Harry shrugged. "I don't. I just heard that you and he are pretty much polar opposites and that he was living in pretty bad company, as McGonagall put it. Did he join the Death Eaters?" Harry asked, feigning ignorance. Sirius hesitated for a split second, then he nodded.

"Yeah. That's the problem. When they announced that Regulus would soon join the Death Eaters at the dinner table – he wasn't there himself, I don't know where he was – I kind of freaked out a bit. You see, it had always been my parents, and while Regulus was a Slytherin and mother's favourite and all, this still struck me hard. I asked them how they could be so freaking delusional to follow that maniac and that- that caused my parents to snap. Anyway, a fight ensued where my mother finally boasted that Regulus was finally living up to his name and said that I would do so as well, no matter whether I wanted it or not. She and Orion both put me under the Imperius Curse and gave me the order to spy on James – information was always something that they valued highly. James father is a very successful Auror, you know, and politically of extreme importance. I don't know what they plan to do with the information that they get, but I know that it won't be pretty. They probably won't sell it to Voldemort because they hate going into servitude, but still…" Sirius voice trailed off once again.

"The orders that they gave me were simple. I was to behave exactly like I would normally do, but to send them an owl once a month that summarized everything that I had learned. They then told me that the sooner I started the better and that they were sick of seeing me anyway, so they ordered me to leave the house, go to James, tell him that I had run away from home and stay with him, to gather information directly about his parents, not only by proxy. To be able to play that part convincingly, they took turns in Cruciating me." He voice hardened and he looked Harry into the eye, as if daring him to say something, but Harry was still in a state of total shock. This surpassed everything that he could have ever imagined and he wanted to offer words of comfort, but what could he say? What wouldn't sound hollow and empty? Before he could say anything however, Sirius spoke again.

"The pain of the Cruciatus somehow broke Orion's Imperius. I don't how that really works and, frankly, I'm glad that I don't, but they Cruciated me until I fainted and when I woke up, only my stupid bitch of a mother was controlling me. Not really a nice way of waking up, but better than having my father in there as well." He grinned wryly. "I had been fighting the curse for nearly a month and was getting weaker, but all the same still controlling me. Until you came along." Sirius grinned again, sincerely this time. "Thanks, I guess."

Harry only nodded, at a complete loss what to say. After a long and awkward silence, Sirius stood up, picked up his bag and headed towards the door. This time, Harry didn't stop him, but Sirius stopped himself, turning around on the threshold of the door that had been unlocked just a moment before. "Thanks. Not only for the Imperius, but…" He didn't say anything before leaving the room for good, but Harry understood him.

Harry understood his godfather perfectly.


	8. Coping

**Here's Chapter 8! Sorry it took so long, but I was kinda going through the stage of 'I'm feeling too lazy'. Sorry :P Besides I published a Loki fic last week, so to be fair I did do something =3 *hint hint nudge nudge nope no self-advertisement here nudge***

**Ah yes, so this is the first chapter of this story which is written entirely by me! :D I hope I haven't messed it up yet - sorry if you find the writing style to be different, but hopefully it won't put you off =3**

**Ok, so, thank you for the faves, follows, and reviews! I think I will reply to all of them.**

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**_almostinsane:_********^_^ That's good ^_^ Yeah, the Romans were a lot like that.**

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**Weeeee and that's it. Now I am going to go and wait for Merlin to start =3 I think I'll write a Merlin fic next :P Bye bye people! Enjoy my hard work :P**

Chapter 8 - Coping

The following days were some of the worst. No matter how much he wanted to, no one could get wind of the fact that Sirius had just been released from the Imperius Curse, under which the influence he had been acting under for months. This meant that he couldn't tell his friends about it, but either way, he still blamed himself, blamed himself for being too weak to overcome the curse.

Every time he tried to apologise, James would just snarl while Remus had steered clear of him, and Peter would mumble something about 'Transfiguration Homework' or 'late...' before hurrying off somewhere. All in all, Sirius was downright miserable.

With all this it was hardly surprising that the entire population of Hogwarts noticed that the usually inseparable Marauders were one short; in fact, they were so intrigued as to the reason of their falling out that they even forgot to shun Sirius for the loss of 200 points (which effectively put Gryffindor in last place). However, whenever someone asked, their answer would be a sneer worthy of Snape from James. Remus never replied, and predictably Peter would splutter something before scurrying away – generally no different from their treatment of Sirius. So instead, they were all treated to a moping ex-Marauder, and after time they learned they would get nothing out of him either.

With this open hostility between the best friends, and no plausible explanation, it was only a matter of time before rumours began circulating the school, ranging from Remus' dying or dead rabbit, to an event that had something to do with love potions, dark spells and the Astronomy Tower – which may have been started by a certain greasy, hooked nosed, git. There was even one about dark creatures, but no one would know just how close they actually were with that assumption.

Snape was ecstatic. Hard not to be, seeing as his greatest enemies had turned against each other. Even though he couldn't tell anyone about Remus, the initial annoyance of this had disappeared, and now he spent all his time trying to discredit the Marauders, which he did with relish. Normally no one would believe him, but with the current circumstances people were willing to listen to anything, forthe mere chance that it could be true. So, Snape now spent his time boasting about how he had almost been killed, but sneered and refused to elaborate when anyone asked for details.

With the rest of the Marauders ignoring him, his classmates constantly badgering him and the constant ridicules he received from Snape, this left Sirius utterly alone, and the one person that used to care about Sirius, who had helped him through everything was... well, Sirius hardly believed he would even acknowledge him, let along speak to him, unless it was to spit in his face, and he could hardly blame him. That was his fault as well. Regulus sat with his head bowed, not joining in but certainly not helping either. In fact he seemed to have troubles of his own.

With no one to comfort him, Sirius found himself spending his time in the Library, trying hard to ignore the bitter loneliness, while secretly hoping that he would run in Remus there and apologise – no such luck. He never saw Remus outside class now, and even then he would leave before Sirius even had a chance to open his mouth.

Even though he'd been warned against revealing he'd been under the Imperius, for fear of his parents discovering this, he really wished that he didn't see the sense behind it, and might just tell Remus anyway, and James. He truly wished he could just tell them, especially Remus; tell him that he was too weak to fight his mother's Imperius, tell him how very sorry he was, and how it would never happen again – never ever ever ever. But he couldn't. Could he? No, it wouldn't make anything better, only other matters worse. Still, maybe...

Nervously, he cleared his throat "James?"

Further down the table, a mop of messy hair looked up at the sound of his name. "What?" he snarled, catching sight of Sirius staring at him. He winced; even though he'd received the same response many times in the past week, it still hurt to be spoken to like that by his best friend.

"I..." he began, not knowing how to continue. James continued to glare at him, not saying a word. Well, he was still listening – that was something. Sirius swallowed nervously. "I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, really I didn't, it wasn't-"

"What? Your fault?" he raised an eyebrow "How then?"

He opened his mouth, but realized that there was nothing he could say, not with so many people present, some beginning to watch with interesting. Yet even if he could, would it make any difference? Would James forgive him? _But... _a small voice of doubt rose in the back of his mind, _how do you know it wasn't your fault? _The voice said. _You were under the Imperius, true, but that doesn't mean your mother made you betray Remus. Oh no, _it whispered; treacherous, _you might have chosen to reveal it on your own, so no Imperius to blame, is there? _Sirius swallowed, determined not to listen to that voice, but he couldn't deny it was right. He couldn't blame the Imperius for something he chose himself, especially with no proof that he really was made to do so against his will. Nothing to say, he snapped his mouth shut.

Seeing that Sirius could find no excuse, James spat, "Thought not," before leaving the table.

Sirius sighed, not knowing what else he'd expected. He no longer felt hungry. Getting up, he left as well, ignoring that moisture rising in his eyes, thinking that their friendship and brotherhood could never be again.

Unbeknownst to Sirius, James was outside, trying to suppress his tears, thinking the exact same thing.

* * *

"For homework a five inch long essay on Grindelows to be handed in next week," the whole class groaned. "Come on, five inches isn't that long, and you have the freedom to write anything about them that you wish."

As the students filed out, Harry couldn't help but smile – it was nice to see a time when children still found homework to be the bane of their existence. Besides, it's not like they had much to complain about – he did find that he was giving them a lot less work than he'd received in his time at Hogwarts; well, from Professor McGonagall at least. It's fine though; most of their work was practical – after that year with Umbridge he was more than certain that theory would not help them one bit, though maybe stubborn pride had something to do with that. Either way, long story short, he was fairly reluctant to work from the textbook.

This however, meant that he had to show everything he was teaching, therefore he took a leaf from Professor Lupin's book and had brought in dark creatures for his demonstrations. At first he did consider moving this to second years, but there was so much he needed to teach them that he decided against it, instead showing it to the third year pupils like it had been done with him; well the upper years would have to get a crash course in it later. Briefly, he wondered what Remus Lupin had taught the other years during his time as the DADA Professor. Maybe he took Harry's idea and taught using the same schedule, which in turn Harry had actually learned from him? Which actually he might have copied off Harry but really it was- all this made his head hurt. Okay, maybe Remus specialised in Dark Creatures and everyone had been taught the same, but overall he doubted that the Imperius had been taught – then again everyone thought Voldemort and all Dark Wizards dead at that point, so it probably didn't seem necessary.

A small smile graced Harry's lips again as he thought back to his time at Hogwarts – it was a time he was truly happy, and blissfully ignorant. Alright, those years hadn't been totally peaceful per say but-

A soft knock at the door brought him out of his musings. "Come in,"

Looking up he found his godfather – or well, not yet godfather – standing at the door.

"Si- Mr Black. What can I do for you?" Harry smiled, hoping that Sirius didn't notice his little slip – after all he didn't know him that well; this Sirius anyway.

If he did, he said nothing. Instead he remained at the door, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. Harry waited patiently, and finally Sirius started, "Professor, about the Imperius..."

"I haven't told anyone," Harry assured him.

"No, it's not that. I was wondering... could you teach me how to fight the Imperius?" mistaking Harry's brief silence to be a refusal, he quickly added, "You know, just so that I know I'll definitely be able to fight it in the future, just in case, I mean, I really don't want to ever be forced to hurt my friends or betray them again and I just thought-"

Harry held up a hand to silence Sirius, whose mouth snapped shut.

"It's alright, Mr Black, I understand – you don't have to explain. It's my job to teach you how to defend yourself and I'd be glad to help you. I was planning on continuing the Imperius Curse during class anyway, as it's important that everyone at least has some idea on how to fight the Curse, but I'll gladly give you extra lessons until you can throw off the curse entirely – if you so wish."

Sirius seemed to sag in relief. "Yes, please, thank you Professor,"

Harry smiled. "How are Thursday afternoons for you? We can start then and work out the time for the next lessons," Sirius nodded. "Good, Thursday seven o'clock then. I'll see you in class tomorrow. Goodnight, Mr Black."

He smiled slightly, "Goodnight sir,"

Sirius turned to go. Before he left though, Harry asked, "How are you feeling, Sirius?" in a whisper barely audible. Sirius froze.

"Coping. Goodnight Professor," he repeated, and left.

* * *

Harry watched his godfather leave, his heart sinking. He understood how Sirius felt, to have his friends turn on him, and to feel so utterly lost and alone, and above all helpless to do anything to change what had happened. Harry couldn't change the future, because every choice he made, he'd already made before; even something he did which he thought may change the future would inevitably just result in shaping the one he'd already experienced. And endless loop. He couldn't change the future – his past – just as Sirius couldn't change his. But, one comforting thought was that even though, he knew that Sirius will at least have a few more years of happiness ahead of him.


	9. Magical Theory

**Hi hi HI people :D First um... sorry? It's been around two months, which is actually shorter than I thought, but I guess my subconcious was trying to make me feel guilty. I actually DID have this written ages ago, because I scribble things during maths, but I've never had the time to actually type it up and fix it properly, and then came the point where teachers decided 'Hey guess what, Merry Christmas have SOME ESSAYS, oh and don't forget about this Past Paper over here' you get the idea =3 Plus I'm never too sure if it's long enough :P So this time it is kind of shorter than the rest but at the same time I think getting over the 1,000 word mark is impressive for me personally... :P**

**Generally, apart from that excuse, it's exams, concerts, and then I was ill and still am :( Now, I'll do some replying... Sorry for taking so long!**

**_almostinsane_****: I agree =] Probably one of the few reasons I think time travel would suck - but then again if you're with the Doctor then everything should be fine :D Uh... Not that that has anything to do with this... :D But yes, and thank you ^_^**

**_Brian Justin Gus Kinney_****: Yes well, it's kind of a nice symbolic thought isn't it? That they've grown up together like a family and now they really are one. And especially for Harry who always wanted to know his family and have one, like in the first book when he saw all his family in the Mirror of Erised =] So that fits more with the whole Big Happy Family part, particularily the big :P Oh, and as for that, you'll just have to wait and see :P **

**_Daughter of the Full Moon:_********Eh that was... blunt. I hope this chapter might answer that question? ^_^**

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**_Dinasaurs-go-rawr:_****Thanks! Haha, sorry for making you wait for... 2 months.**

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**_moriahhh:_********=3**

**Err, sorry again for taking so long, nothing much happens in this chapter, kind of just me shoving my own ideas in a bit, and a little random bit at the end. Right then, I'm done =] Thank you everyone for reviewing/faving/following and sorry for this looong wait =] Enjoy people! I think I'll go update my other story as well =] Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays =3**

Chapter 9 - Magical Theory

With no one to comfort him, he found himself spending his time in Professor Jameson's classroom, desperately trying to throw off the Imperius. He worked harder than ever, adamant that the curse would never again be the cause of the betrayal of his friends. Or at least the catalyst. Not that he _really_ believed that, he truly blamed it all on himself, but he had to find some reason, no matter how small, that it may not have _entirely _been his fault; find some small hope to cling on to that his friends may forgive him if they realized that he couldn't control himself, and it wasn't intentional, because he would _never have_, not that, not _Remus' secret-_

Sirius blinked, and mentally shook himself. He thought he'd gotten over that stage, blaming himself all the time, but it seemed he still frequently lapsed into. He'd thrown himself into studying, something that's he'd never done before and never needed really, but it served as a good distraction. Now, having (mostly) dragged himself out of his hole of self pity, he'd decided that he'd be better off trying to learn something that could actually help in the war. He already knew enough spells and curses to help because of his lovely lineage, so overcoming the Imperius sounded like a good place to start, and also would serve quite well to spite his parents – imagine their reaction when they finally realized that they couldn't control him, in _any _way, especially illegal; damn, his mother will have a fit; he'd better start avoiding that place now...

Spending so much time with Jameson, trying to counter the Imperius, he soon found how likeable he truly was, and how he felt he could trust his Professor with just about anything, for no particular reason. It was just easy to trust him. There was just something about him that seemed... familiar almost. Friendly and trusting, that's two words that could sum Professor Jameson up. Even though he was learning to trust his Professor more though, getting to know him better showed Sirius just how distant he was from everyone else though, and he wasn't too sure if he was talking about the Professor or himself. While he did provide an odd sense of openness and trust, there seemed to be something darker lurking under the surface, threatening to spill at any moment, and Sirius was scared not knowing whether it would be a good or bad thing when that happened. Sirius might have thought he was overreacting, his animagus senses acting up, if it were not for that look Jameson sometimes had in his eyes; sad, broken, and lonely, seeming as if he were seeing something not there. Didn't Remus mention something similar to this before? Or maybe he imagined that...

"Imperio," Sirius was cut off from his thoughts, and cursed inwardly as he realized he'd missed what his Professor might have been saying for the past who knows how many minutes and _damnit it could have been important._

He tried to clear his mind to think clearer as commands filled his head.

'_Okay, sing... no, waltz around the room,' _Harry watched with barely concealed amusement as the Gryffindor stumbled every third step, barelyavoiding crashing into the desks. After watching him struggle for a few more minutes, he released the curse.

"Ouch." Sirius immediately fell to the ground, massaging his sides. "Anything less embarrassing than making me waltz?" he grumbled, glaring at his teacher.

"Well, I could always make you learn ballet instead..."

Sirius' eyes widened almost comically. "No, no, waltz is fine!"

Harry's lips twitched slightly, before adopting a professional manner again. "Anyway, that was much better this time – you were clearly fighting it seeing how that was the most pathetic waltz I've ever seen," he smirked at Sirius' look of indignation. "It shows that you were opposing my will, so that's good – quite an improvement. After you manage to throw it off entirely, I'll increase the power behind it – however once you've got the basics of it, it becomes easier and fighting a stronger curse shouldn't be too difficult as the principle's the same."

Sirius sat in silence as he slowly took this in, then nodded. Leaping to his feet as he prepared for another round of the Imperius; or as he'd dubbed it 'time to fail and humiliate myself' sessions.

* * *

Finally after an hour of gruelling work, Sirius trudged up to the dormitory, shut the door and collapsed onto his bed, not even bothering to get changed. Who would have thought fighting the Imperius was so exhausting? Mental exhaustion he'd expected, but physical? Professor Jameson explained that was because you also push some of your magic into combating the curse, which would be why muggles found it especially difficult, though not impossible ("Seeing how we each have magic inside of us," Jameson had explained, "Magic is part of nature itself and exists in all of us, it just depends if there's enough to 'unlock and harness' or not,"). As magic was part of them, running through their entire body – which is why a wand is used to focus this – and therefore, magical exhaustion also results in physical exhaustion, seeing how the energy source that's usually there has drained; it's almost like running too much and not having had the food to restore energy.

Of course some people have a larger magical coils than others, and have better control over the amount of magic they allow to filter through, making it less likely to fall from depleting their magic (and since spells depends on the shape and direction the magic takes, and not the amount of raw energy that is put into it, it gives you a great advantage). Or eh, the explanation was something along those lines. Sirius had not memorized everything word for word, oh no, because he was _not _a- whatever.

At first Sirius had looked very confused when the Professor told him about magical strength and exhaustion, hence the long lecture he'd received on the whole thing. It was interesting, though as he'd never heard of any teacher so much as mentioning magical coils and he'd soaked all the information in, intent on doing some more research on it. That meant a trip to the library. Imagine that! Him, Sirius, in the _library! _Well that was no longer such a strange sight as he spent half of his free time in there nowadays, ever since-

Sirius shook his head, though it was more of a jerking motion. No, he refused to dwell on that. What's done is done, and all he could hope for would be to do something to make amends, doing something for the future rather than trying to fix the past and if his friends won't forgive him then... well, he deserved it anyway. He'd accepted the fact that he mught never make it up to them.

* * *

Lily frowned, glancing up from her Transfiguration homework. It was odd, seeing the four reduced to three – in fact she still wasn't used to it. She thought that they might have made up by now, not still ignoring Sirius after this long; if anything this was all a sign that what had occurred must have been really serious – no pun intended – but she couldn't for the life of her imagine what. It's been weeks, and none of them had so much as done, well, anything immature or normal – for them anyway. No jokes, no pranks, nothing. James hadn't even asked her out once, and that a sure sign that things were far from well. Hate as she did to admit it, but some part of her, in some corner of her find, she actually felt some pity for the pranksters and she was slightly... for some reason she missed the attention he gave her.

_No_. Shaking her head. _No, stupid thought, what the hell am I even thinking? Must be tired. But still..._

As if hearing her thoughts, James suddenly looked up at that moment. He blinked seeing her staring at him, then grinned, and winked.

She felt her cheeks colour. Huffing, she pointedly turned back to her work.

_... when performing Human Transfiguration it's imperative to remember..._

Biting her bottom lip, she twirled the quill in her hand. Finally she gave up; she could no longer concentrate now.

Sighing, she packed up, unconsciously glancing towards Potter. She could finish this tomorrow.


End file.
